SONNET 92
Should we not love, bearing hearts, in repetition,
Faithfully in repetition? Above more chance,
Clouds gale salmon-scale morning tundra emblazoned,
Screening no more at hand than here a Bergamasque,
Cherishing their southern tropics, desert enhanced,
'Twere said, latched discontent finer mornings left slept
And its pillar shunned capered, ord'ring in advance
The demands of a feast with friends such heat repents
By itself searching Iram audaciously meant,
Least gentler, kept us would all the same labor
Mislead in bliss, so often rides and tides commit
Paper towns to mislead the paper crown wearer
Blaming, now, simple end reduced come tighter sleep;
If counting fun's such left, expect nothing to reap.
