Two Sonnets


The sleeping eye in grandest dreams is lost,
And in vast emptiness is dowsed and tossed,
Where the world with eternity is crossed,
And darkness abides with pleasure untold.

The turning wheel of time leans to rapture,
Like breath is pressed and driven to capture
The memories upon the tongue that fracture
All the years gathered into life’s strong hold.

Multured sighs are sands upon the bright shore
Of lives lived, forgotten, as ages roar
Into boundless eons which spread before
That endless unknown span where stars unfold.

When shadows linger and when shadows fall
The blood remembers the high All, in all.



You are the gild and dance of deathless fire
That holds the colloquy of things long past.
What wisdom is caught in this earth’s dense brier,
Where dreams are ragged sails upon a mast?

The seamless spheres of day that cannot fade
Mold rich patterns, though none can yet define
High Beauty’s spreading calm which must abrade
This heart that it may not lie content like wine.

The whisper of your words is richer feast
As soars the arch despite the load of stone.
The building of my soul my breath increased,
That I might each hour, each minute atone.

The seamless stretch of time is your delight,
Which all may now have for a widow’s mite.



The photo shows, “Poème de l’âme 14: Sur la Montagne,” by Louis Janmot.