Sunday, November 29, 2015

November 29 -- Mel Goldberg

When sunrise in our land washes the hills
Painting the depths in yellow, brown, and gold,
Your stroll beside the pond fulfills
Not let you walk away from one who loves you.
I ache to be the flower in your hand,
Moistened with your kiss and morning dew.
I will one day be king of all this land,
Will you then be my queen?  These castle walls,
In the harsh mountain’s craggy arms held fast
Cry for your pure heart’s innocence.  Heed the calls
Echoing through each hall from first to last.
O clutch me, like that flower, to your breast.

Sonnet based on Maxfield Parrish’s Romance, 1922

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