“A Sonnet”

I write a sonnet? But a sonnet, dear,

            May be the breaking of an Easter morn;

            Or a low wind among the ripening corn

When a russet silk tops each green-golden ear;

A white, white flower laid upon a bier

            By one whose love dwelt from the world apart;

            Or a bee-ravished clover-blossom’s heart;

A glace met once; a voice so sweet and clear

Its memory lives thro’ all forgotten years;

            A lonely nighthawk calling to the night;

            The red flash of a star in downward flight;

The trampling thunder of a mighty sea;

            Or a wild prayer shaken thro’ with tears . .

            Or this long kiss upon the lips of thee!

 

 

 

“A Sonnet” as it appears in Higginson’s When the Birds Go North Again (1898).

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