Good afternoon all. My first post here, and my first sonnet. It's a Spenserian format - I consciously copied the feel and structure of an existing poem to arrive at this result. It has a somewhat archaic feel to it, which I was aiming for.
This was written for a lady I was sweet on, but who did not return the feeling with the same fervour I felt.
I welcome suggestions for improvement.
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Though drunken I, for she of sober taste,
Desire in vain that she might share my bed,
Unmoved is she to drink of Love in haste:
More temp’rate she, than my besotted head.
How is it so, the sober life she’s led
Wins not from me avoidance of my vice?
On honey-dewed desire have I fed,
And to my bed I’ll yet my Love entice.
How strange to drink the milk of Paradise,
And know my lover’s head will never swoon,
While gladly I will pay the drunkard’s price,
Desiring still to bed her well, and soon.
Desire, of old, will choose who it may rule
And so I wait ... my Lady’s drunken Fool.
