Do NOT begin.
(sonnet #dunno)
Now blackbirds call with sheer seduction, whence
The grass is green and mown of late, detail
What? For Josiah's GONE. What have I? Frail
From losing him, and work hours I need hence,
Yet which are madly 'rranged to leave defense
Upon its ear, I'm crumbling without bail
Erm by the very hour. Naught can avail
Me, nor should I have trusted in pretense.
All's clearly budding, yet I'm stranded, poor
And fragile as erst wont, dreams perished through
The loss of him, and time's sheer wastes. Bestir
Naught, but tis empty, mocking me anew.
How silver puddles wait and shiver. Were
There place for me, that's oer. LORD, I wait You.
04Apr26b