SONNET 124
Tho' it had just been words where you're from, visc'rally
Epitomic sanctuaries, crystal palace
A fragility of trust worth invisibly,
Worth'ly honored aggrandizing a diff'rent class
Such egos pelt slandering. No matter. Recall
Death, his lengths, his monsters' sleep, his ephemeral;
Not too much words but syllables broke the sonnet,
Like noontide's cross-sea into ringlets dispirit --
Serrations go. Day full of birth fuller instincts
Wash sincerer waves mere words fawning could never,
Just words (temp'rament), be opposed ethereal blinks
Unspoken... hearken yet this: face without quiver
Humiliations! if Marc Antony's be true, --
My Cleopatra, convened yours my last day, too.
