Monday, November 26, 2012
Sonnet Fifteen for Will
When aspiration waits upon the time/
Compacted between duty and despair/
It must not be distracted from the climb/
By doubt or disappointment. If I share /
These precious moments set aside to write/
With other hapless enterprise, it’s done: /
I might as well return to bed this night/
And wait upon the distant winter sun. /
I do not have a moment to lament/
The seconds stolen by my bloat caprice -/
This is the only way I can repent /
Delinquent days and make my inner peace. /
I can’t amend the “no” of yesterday,/
But I can see what comes to me today.
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