The Rose to the StarAbove the vault of heaven bright
Did wander there a lonely Star,
A brilliant gleaming sky-born gem
With not a mar.
For eons passed and eons yet,
The Star did dwale about on high,
With ne’er a thought t’ward earthen souls
Beneath the sky.
Then when the rain did kiss the ground
And wake the dormant seed within,
The earth recalled her children dear,
Bid life begin.
And grew there then a Rose below,
Who cast his petals to the sky,
And there in that lacuna black
The Star he spied.
So called he out to her in want,
Her beauty and mystique her charm,
Yet when the Star rebuffed his want,
He was disarmed.
He grew his sanguine petals bright
And dappled them in morning dew,
That he might set the Star alight
With love anew.
“Come down to me and be my love!
Forget the touch of welkin hands,
These petals soft shalt rival clouds,
Here on the land.
“Would that I could uproot myself
Sonnet IIA bitter fate awaits the late-shone star,
The rose knows not his beauty nor his pain,
Once Summer’s passed the earth receives her scars,
Life withers and the star shines on in vain,
Thy foolish thought the earth could love the sky,
That mountains meet the clouds in tender kiss,
For more than fleeting moments is awry,
When crushing touch would damn them both to Dis,
And should the star decide he loves the rose,
When she her tender thorns has caref’ly grown,
He risks himself to sorrow’s deepest throes,
‘Tis fate commands the two remain alone.
And should he fall from heavens in his thrall,
The star would burn his rose to naught at all.