If love be the voice of sweet nature's tune,
I'd hark the wailing of the midnight breeze.
For thy heart's silent who shall ne'er swoon
to my endearing words of love with ease.
When thou sing thy elegant melody,
I would then in wooing verses reply;
yet thou shun the odes I would laud to thee
though passion be within my every cry.
Yet these I forget when thy fair face shines
and robs my fears throughout the cruel night.
I'd trill of thee still though thou art not mine
to linger in my heart thy lovely sight.
And if my muse by chance would hear this song,
better time ends, than live alone so long.
Author notes
I'm back again with another sonnet, and this time I took some liberties with it. I'm going to fix it in a while, but in the mean time, here's my finished product.
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