If swore I, ne’er describe to thee my heart:
How desperately doth it yearn; and start
To quicken at the moment first I see–
And when I hear a voice and know ’tis thee.
Withheld I, how’t doth race when com’st thou near:
And skip when touch my cheek to quell my fear;
To pound its expectation of thy touch,
Doth fierce thou see my body shake as much;
Withheld how at its quiet pace I’d be
Amazed, as beat our hearts in synchrony,
My wonder as their beat would nary stray;
Thence, locked my parchment, quill, and ink, away.
If swore I, ne’er describe my heart to thee,
Then would it’s beating stopped forever be?
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Filed under: Course, Sonnets Tagged: Art, Beat, Blank verse, Fixed Verse Forms, Form, Heaven, Iambic Pentameter, Literature, Longing, Love, Lyrical Couplets, Poetry, Romantic Realism, Sonnet, The 101