Sonnet On A Dead Lover’s Revenge

Image by Nathan Wright

Summer is a season I shall never know.

For it is to eternal winter that I go.

May thou not know the summer flood of girls’ hair.

Unless thou first think on me and despair.

May all who know thee know thee not too well

Lest like poor me, they too shall weep in Hell.

Do not cry for me; I shall no longer be for thee

But shalt be as thou hast been for me.

And if thou repent, may it no forgiveness bring

But wisdom wrought by suffering.

‘Twould be too kind to curse thee, so I curse thee not.

If to praise would be to curse, than my curses be forgot.

            Ah, but if curses could salvation bring,

            Then all they praises I would surely sing!