Sonnet 16 by Richard Barnfield

Long have I longed to see my love againe,
Still I have wisht, but never could obtaine it;
Rather than all the world (if I might gaine it)
Would I desire my love's sweet precious gaine.
Yet in my soule I see him everie day,
See him, and see his still sterne countenaunce,
Where majestie and beautie beares the sway?
Sometimes, when I imagine that I see him,
(As love is full of foolish fantasies)
Weening to kisse his lips, as my love's fees,
I feele but aire: nothing but aire to bee him.
Thus with Ixion, kisse I clouds in vaine:
Thus with Ixion, feele I endles paine.


Source: The Longman Anthology of Poetry (Pearson, 2006)
The Poetry Foundation

She Waits

(Original poetry for Poet, by me.)

She Waits

Darkness spilling across her gown

Soaks the fabric, traces her curves.

Like fingers of a lover's hands,

night hovers, lingers on her skin.

Moonlight framed by chamber window

Whispers glad tidings, "Soon, he comes."

Her heart dares hope, yet she lies still.

Unconvinced in the dark, she waits.

~Ephemera, 21 April, 2011