Sonnet VII/V

Just to catch a glimpse, it does felt so strange

And could not read'ly discern if its glee

Or awkwardness. Indeed there is a change

Within for butterflies and flow'rs I see.

Such an ecstatic scene of reverence!

If only I would not be too craven

Yet passionate with no foolish pretense

To drown in such presence, a bard's haven.

Likely as not if the gods did comply

And toyed with my dire passion, will my dream

Turn to be grey than what is real? O fie!

So drat this profane thought of mine so grim.

I’m just perplexed, such an anathema

‘Her’ existence is in the noumena.