Our love grows stronger, stauncher like two vines
Which, planted underneath an archway stitched
With trellis work, climb up in certain lines
Until the two are caught together, hitched.
The early fragile, green and hopeful plants
Were first in shallow beds cautiously laid.
Then, nurtured well against every instance
Of drought or wash or storm, they stayed.
They grew and twined and climbed, approached the peak,
Their branches thickened and their leaves spread out,
Next flowers blossomed as day grew to week,
And stems advanced and reached and sought about.
And thus, by surge and lance the vines had clasped
Each other; love was grasped and held at last.
"Sonnet IV" was first published in Son(love)nets, 1975. Although the persona in this poem is hopeful, once again the building of love seems to be an excruciating process. Where is the joy? The title of the collection is telling, also: the male "Son" is caught in "nets" made of "love." Implied is something not quite natural that has to be constructed by the romantic idealist.
Below are some items related to this blog.
No comments:
Post a Comment