A Wreath Of Sonnets (4/14)

These tear-stained flowers of a poet's mind,

Culled from my bosom, lay it wholly bare;

My heart's a garden: Love is sowing there

Sad elegies each with my longing signed.

You are their sun whose radiance, purblind,

I seek in vain at home and everywhere,

In theatre, on promenade and square,

Midst revels where the chains of dancers wind.

How often through the town with watchful eyes

I wander, praying for a fate more kind,

Yet catch no glimpse of that elusive prize.

I shed my tears to loneliness confined:

Hence all these songs which from my love arise;

They come from where no man can sunshine find.