Sonett-Forum

TIME'S sea hath been five years at its slow ebb,
Long hours have to and fro let creep the sand,
Since I was tangled in thy beauty's web
And snared by the ungloving of thine hand.
And yet I never look on midnight sky
But I behold thine eyes' well memoried light ;
I cannot look upon the rose's dye
But to thy cheek my soul doth take its flight ;
I cannot look on any budding flower,
But my fond ear, in fancy at thy lips
And hearkening for a love-sound, doth devour
Its sweets in the wrong sense : Thou dost eclipse
Every delight with sweet remembering,
And grief unto my darling joys dost bring.