Two Sonnets (3 & 4), to Sadness

The trees aloft their weighty boughs scarce-hold
Each dejected leaf hangs pond’rous, low
With heaviness but one who’s sad can know
Whose new anticipation is grown old
Whose onetime glowing hope is waned and cold
Whose soul forsakes the temperate ebb and flow
Of reasons, seasons, feelings to and fro
The solemn sky itself with grief unfolds
At once and in a swell a torrent pours
The sadness it no longer can contain
And in surges fosters wilting flowers
Gladly, lilting blossoms imbibe its pain
In grief gradual fed upon by hours
And washed away in the baptismal rain.


From heavy-hanging heavens still and wide
At once, wells forth what they cannot contain
In cataracts of sadness, swells of rain
Whence all the creatures scurry, seek to hide
Whence flowers droop their heads and scarce abide
Retract their loveliness to flee the pain
The golden sun forsakes his shining reign
The weighty wages bear away his pride
Which torrents draw and drown it in the sea
Where it is fast-forgotten in the storm
Levities contend, but utterly
To dark dejection must at last conform
To transform: “in this we die,” they say to me,
“From fate forlorn: in this shall be reborn.”

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