Sonnet

One more in a string of poems I've written tonight... this one is a sonnet.

Hold fast my bleeding heart in your cold hand,
For I know not what love will have me do.
And only that you know my love is grand,
Brings forth this hope, for once, and life anew.

And so I say that love is no sure thing.
That lovers do quarrel and hold pride tight,
Await the day when joy will fortune bring,
But lay them down to love every dark night.

Should this, my fate, bring upon my young head,
And keep me lost from your temperate shores,
I should think it better I had been dead,
Than lose your love to winter's windy wars.

And I see my purpose in stars above,
That you, my dear, should have all of my love.