Sonnet 349

All is now lost for you belong to him,
I heard the distant steeple peal its joy
Which from my vantage echoed cold and grim
To torture ears and stinging eyes annoy;
What’s left of love when surly bronze shall toll,
That self same dome that cries when death descends,
One sonorous gong clangs happiness and woe
So mixing glad inception with sad end.
No doubt your mouth did form the words ‘I do’;
Stained lips did press to seal that sacred vow,
What of the pledge to me you swore was true,
That troth now scattered rice upon the ground.
Though cherubim voices did so canonize,
What truth exalts in consecrated lies?

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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