Sonnet 49

It was not love that struck me at first sight,
Not Cupid’s dart that did arrest me there;
But something in an instant did ignite
A flame of passion that did surely flare.
And glim to conflagration grew anon
Consuming thusly reason, wit and sense.
Outshining logic which did soon abscond
And left this purblind swain in recompense.
This swain did swoon and sightless ventured forth,
Proclaimed such visions of celestial state
That sober listener not yet weighing worth,
Felt sure he must fair gaze through heaven’s gate.
That love is blind ’tis but no wonder so –
For purblind love sees not but beauty’s show.

©Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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