Monday, September 11, 2006

9/11 + 5

Sonnet XIX
Lady Mary Wroth (née Sidney)

Come, darkest night, becoming sorrow best;
Light, leave thy light, fit for a lightsome soul;
Darkness doth truly suit with me oppressed,
Whom absence' power doth from mirth control:

The very trees with hanging heads condole
Sweet summer's parting, and of leaves distressed
In dying colours make a griefful roll,
So much, alas, to sorrow are they pressed.

Thus of dead leaves her farewell carpets made:
Their fall, their branches, all their mournings prove,
With leafless, naked bodies, whose hues vade
From hopefull green, to whither in their love:

If trees and leaves for absence mourners be,
No marvel that I grieve, who like want see.

Jane Stevenson and Peter Davidson, (eds.), Early Modern Women Poets: An Anthology, (Oxford, 2001), p. 149.

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