If love does rule the heart, then love's cruel,
Unhappy masters, whom do give to reap;
At play with players bound to loves' duel
But is love none if not to end in weep?
If all must die, then love's a mortal game
And subject then to laws of ash or dust,
Or give this king a lesser kingdom name
Diminished of the land that hearts entrust.
No! Love is life, to bittersweet the death
And followed blind despite the hewn of scythe
And uttered as it were the lasting breath
As tho' to love, is then to carry with.

Love is to live as tho' it weren't to die
But love there none, then one has lived to lie.

O' where does every rose go when it dies?
As love's a rose, and idleness does rot;
Then roses wither down to dusty guise -
With every thorn and every prickly dot.
Yet is to love, to grow a petal leaf?
That if befalls, the stem of love withhold,
Then love for one is what does die of grief
And limbs left mourn, to bleed for love of old.
Are we of blessed bodies with a rose -
That mends the bleeding limb and loves again?
Again, again til time does then repose -
The flow of love, then rose to dust; is then.

Tho' care upon this flower near the core;
If bled to dry, then love has loved no - more.

As she and I do lay 'neath summer's noon
I quarrel with the sun; who loves her more?
For you do shine her glow, rename her June
That she does wear as sunlight ever wore.
Her ocean eyes turn rays to aqua blue
That she so welcomed them does aid your cause,
And tease in mine my mortal self and you
That struck her beauty so, my chest does pause.
And think that you; the purest, loves by day,
But I with extra eye have doubled sight,
To gift her twice the worship you relay
And thrice more when the lover's love by night.

O' sun, good friend, I fear I have you beat!
Tho' had that glow, me very near defeat.

I wonder if you know I love you so;
As vast that you can dream, as real as touch,
As swiftly sweet as springtime breeze can blow
And many greens they brush, yes love that much.
Above where skies can't reach and stars there shine
As deep in earth where meets the other side,
As rare as Mars and Venus would combine -
A perfect sphere where love upon there ride.
Aloud as tho' if all the birds would sing
The song my love and only heart does know,
Then long you'd hear, and still not ev'rything;
My love renews as oft that breath does flow.

If I there be to where your eyes can't see
That write of love herein is this here me.

I know of beauty in the need of praise
For her own view of self does view defect
And cannot dream that eyes adore her glaze,
That needn't the sun nor light to gift effect.
The social sites appear to worsen her;
Perfection shown does taunt the blemished seen
Her radiance a - glow then turns to blur,
Until that youth becomes what has then been.
Tho' shyness plagues me, ink from mine can't shy
If she this sonnet read, rewrites her eyes,
Then she to her own beauty can't deny,
And I, her sonneteer maintain disguise.

Tho' if nearby she reads from this aloud
Then may just may, she'll glance me out a cloud.

Shall words engrave upon my silver stone;
Beneath the title, birth and date I died?
For merely left from worms, is dusty bone
Not there in dust can love let love abide;
That's pure cannot be buried, eaten, cold.
Then false to scribe love's found if here erode
But note there diggers dead to those of old;
If they perturb my everlasting ode
Then they'd have drawn the soul wherein were bound
And curse upon them; out of love they'll be;
As whom these shameless raiders have just found,
Then know that state in which is this here me.

     'What lay beneath is far from
     better self
     Disturb me here then cursed from
     lovers' wealth'

I fear not death, but death without rebirth
For how'll I'll doubly miss the southern spring;
The flowers past and future petal'd earth
Would sprout in distant plays of everything.
If far from view, then even worse a - fate,
As I without a touch will too not see;
The blossoms of my land and gentled mate;
For she does loves the spring as beauty; she.
Tho' be with heaven's angel's, high and sweet
Without my love and spring I'd barely breathe;
In yearn for her below and petal's treat,
Then best let I just lay with dirt my sheathe.

But wake me into light when she too passed
For into heaven, she'll bring spring to last.