Sonnet CXLV

Scoff if thou must in sullied countenance,
As the lion doth prowl and stalk its prey,
Speak of thine own redemptive eminence,
That thou in such offence would rue the day.
Forbidden desire fading sweetly thus,
For darkness inherent devours the light,
To summon the burning flame within us,
And implore recompense for love’s delight.
Burden’s breast doth rage in repulsive hate,
Gasping for breath in spheres devoid of sky,
As tainted verve o’ercharged doth agitate,
Love’s hollow rumbling richly prophesy,
Thine own sorrow’d destiny amplify,
As billowing ash brightly sanctify.