Sunday Sonnet

Started this on Sunday, but life took over. Posting it Monday morning.


Shall any man for whose strong love another ‘

Has thrown away his wealth and name in one,
Shall he turn mocker of a more than brother

To slight his need when his adventure’s done ?
Or shall a breedless boy whose mother won him

In great men’s great concerns his little place
Turn when his farthing honours come upon him

To mock her yeoman air and conscious grace

Then mock me as you do my narrow scope,
For you it was put out this light of mine :

Wrongfully wrecked my new adventured hope,
Wasted my wordy wealth, spilt my rich wine,

Made my square ship within a league of shore
Alas I To be entombed in seas and seen no more.

Hilaire Belloc

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