A Wreath Of Sonnets (4/14)

These tear-stained flowers of a poet's mind, Culled from my bosom, lay it wholly bare; My heart's a garden: Love is sowing there Sad elegies each with my longing signed. You are their sun whose radiance, purblind, I seek in vain at home and everywhere, In theatre, on promenade and square, Midst revels where the chains of dancers wind. How often through the town with watchful eyes I wander, praying for a fate more kind, Yet catch no glimpse of that elusive prize. I shed my tears to loneliness confined: Hence all these songs which from my love arise; They come from where no man can sunshine find.