No tawny, fragile, downy, frightened fawn,
Wet shaking at some malodorous stench
Which wafts in heavy, somber waves at dawn
And makes her start, out poke her nose and flinch,
Can tremble more wholly, deeply than my love
At my divergence from solicitude.
Or even thus, a snowy turtle dove
Whose eyes and voice and flight so well imbued
With pulls at heart, and warning screams and cries,
And dashes that can pale the startled mind
Is no more chastisement than are her eyes
When my sad lover no surcease can find.
And so, when pales my skin and chokes my soul,
I must renew our ties or not be whole.
"Sonnet III" was first published in Son(love)nets, 1975. The persona is once again struggling to align the moods of his beloved to the realities of their life together; he feels he can be whole only with her. Rereading these, I am getting the sense that the woman's emotional hold on herself and the relationship is fragile.
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