Sonnet 185

For love, brave knights might slay a dragon down
And damsels slake of venom at love’s loss,
Alliance stalled upon a single frown
And jeweled crowns for fondness plainly tossed.
So regal souls fall slave to servitude;
So robust hearts may bleed to staunch a tear;
The mighty mire into a bitter feud
That sylphs remain a sovereigns’ souvenir.
What essence rules with such majestic power?
What mortal madness ever courts such bane,
To sojourn and embrace for but an hour—
All utter worth there pledged but for what gain?
There stands no greater force with blind command
Then that which moves or stays a lover’s hand.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 184

If words can move you, let them move you now,
Before the last of love fades from your eyes;
For if you leave, my head shall ever bow,
My loves’ weak substance, ever too despise.
Yet with what grace do I your pleasure hold?
What worth not spent does your dear heart secure?
To please your fancy, play I meek or bold?
What proof of love would your sweet soul immure?
Then call I now to happy hours spent,
To every memory worthy of loves’ praise,
To warm embrace and kisses heaven sent,
To joy and laughter thronging wills and ways;
And may black ink admixed with silver tears,
Anoint new life to all that love endears.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 183

It is sweet sadness when by lovers torn
I torture heart and soul on which to choose,
When each by each is sure a beauty born,
And both so dear, I fear for one to lose;
Weighted even by pure virtue, both the same,
Not one or other holds the finer grace,
By choosing one, the other I defame,
And thus one love endorse and one disgrace;
Yet choose I must, ‘neath eyes of man and god,
Though having wife and mistress does allure,
But wife or mistress, still one heart is trod,
And to all eyes, at best, I play the boor.
What must one do when every right seems wrong,
And joy and sorrow mingle in one song?

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 182

Banishing love, you now proclaim us friends;
Yes, steadfast friends to stand forever more,
Where words and smiles replace once soft held hands,
Moist loving eyes, all passion to abhor.
No lips to kiss, no arms of sweet embrace;
No midnight strolls beneath a fawning moon;
So ever bound to keep a public face;
No stolen touches in the drawing room.
Such concord is for love, a poor excuse—
A purgatory or a kinder hell:
What sin of sins could cause such fall from grace
And for this pretense, what might hearts compel?
Ordain in friendship that which once was love,
Is with a sentence all the world to move.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 181

These silent heart felt words here humble drawn,
On grief stained paper where no pen should write,
All passion yet or wisdom seeming gone;
No vision left to give black ink its sight.
Yet words like tears on paper white do fall,
Or fly like crusted leaves before the wind;
Does writing such loves’ great despair forestall,
Or seal the writ that brings love to this end?
What crafted verse could ever change your mind;
What poets’ hand could melt a frozen heart?
Can loves’ sweet memories in these lines entwined
Entreat forgiveness and fresh love impart?
If words may move your heart, grant me reprieve:
Or damn me now; eternity to grieve.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.