Sonnet 13
Beseech me please, to ease my evil woes.
Provoke me so I know my low of knees –
It will fulfill your still distilling glows –
‘Til casket tasks I ask to bask in these.
Design a sign for mine own pining eyes.
Despise the lies surprising, prize so fine.
Let subtleties abruptly cut their cries,
And vocalize your love, be so benign.
And if this desperate wish is given true,
How soothing would my wooing prove if known.
To live with love exclusively from you,
Enough it is to move my timid tone.
Infatuation flies and fades a dove,
But I would winnow every whim for love.