Sonnet 387

Love’s greatest merit lies in constancy,
That simple thread that bests the rot of time
And weathers all the blight there is to be,
Surviving yet the worst of mortal crime;
Believing she will triumph come what may
Despite the darkness damning fortune metes—
In this the truest heart will sure allay
The wretchedness that foul fate accretes.
As morning sun gives hope to savaged earth,
As gentle rain breeds life from barren ground,
As precious souls bestir in hallowed birth,
So in abiding rhythm truth is found.
In measured cadence love plays out its course
Against all odds, though they be blessed or cursed.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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