A Wreath Of Sonnets (3/14)

Since from my heart's deep roots have sprung these lays, A heart not to be silenced any more; Now I am like to Tasso who of yore Would sing his Leonora's fame and praise. He could not plead his love whose tortouous maze Bemused his years of youth, and fiercely tore His life beyond all hope; and yet he bore The burden he revealed in secret phrase. My passion is aflame, although I find Your glance gives me no hope when you are near; Lest I offend, my lips are sealed by fear. My poor heart's fate, so bitter and unkind, My secret burden - all this they make dear, These tear-stained flowers of a poet's mind,