Love is not given but is earned in kind,
The sweetest form of reciprocity;
Yet unrequited, is a chain that binds
Strong stalwart hearts unto despondency.
What must love do to earn this sacred trust
When sweetest overture is soundly spurned,
Where gentle offer is forthright rebuffed
And fairest comment is to darkness turned?
True love is sentient and lives or dies,
Yet what to nurture this most precious seed?
Where silver words and golden gifts denied,
No symbol yet surpasses simple deed;
Though gilt and grandeur oft false hearts will woo,
A simple rose can win a heart that’s true.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.
One thought on “Sonnet 176”
It’s really beautiful.
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