Love Sonnet XLIV poem – Zora Bernice May Cross poems
Love is the sepulchre of all my sin, If it be sin to let the body sink In that slow dying the sick senses drink That ne’er have felt true Love’s delight rush in. Hot Vice may sear the bloom of Beauty’s skin Polluting Virtue with a painted wink, But Love smiles lightly at such guilt, I think, And cures corruption e’er her ills begin.
I cannot tell the wonder of desire That flames my cheek when you are by my side. Nor dare I speak the secret of that bliss That sets the senses of my soul on fire. Ah Love! all my sin vanished into pride When I drank Heaven from your first pure kiss.
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