Sonnet

Photo by Danil Shostak on Unsplash

(Suggested by some of the Proceedings of the Society for Psychical Research)

Not with vain tears, when we’re beyond the sun, 

We’ll beat on the substantial doors, nor tread 

Those dusty high-roads of the aimless dead 

Plaintive for Earth; but rather turn and run 

Down some close-covered by-way of the air, 

Some low sweet alley between wind and wind, 

Stoop under faint gleams, thread the shadows, find 

Some whispering ghost-forgotten nook, and there 

Spend in pure converse our eternal day; 

Think each in each, immediately wise;

Learn all we lacked before; hear, know, and say 

What this tumultuous body now denies; 

And feel, who have laid our groping hands away; 

And see, no longer blinded by our eyes.

~ Rupert Brooke

Sonnet of the Sweet Complaint

Eye Catching by Pika Chakula

Never let me lose the marvel
of your statue-like eyes, or the accent
the solitary rose of your breath
places on my cheek at night.

I am afraid of being, on this shore,
a branchless trunk, and what I most regret
is having no flower, pulp, or clay
for the worm of my despair.

If you are my hidden treasure,
if you are my cross, my dampened pain,
if I am a dog, and you alone are my master,

never let me lose what I have gained,
and adorn the branches of your river
with leaves of my estranged Autumn.

~  Federico García Lorca

Sonnet of the Sweet Complaint

Eye Catching by Pika Chakula

Never let me lose the marvel
of your statue-like eyes, or the accent
the solitary rose of your breath
places on my cheek at night.

I am afraid of being, on this shore,
a branchless trunk, and what I most regret
is having no flower, pulp, or clay
for the worm of my despair.

If you are my hidden treasure,
if you are my cross, my dampened pain,
if I am a dog, and you alone are my master,

never let me lose what I have gained,
and adorn the branches of your river
with leaves of my estranged Autumn.

~  Federico García Lorca