Sonnet CLVI

Always play hard that I may hear thy heart,
Pure moonlit night stirring valley’s within
Strumming softly my youthful song impart,
With expressive grace and thy mandolin.
Thy hand in mine such love in veiled accord,
Like melody streaming through space and time,
Memories golden shall ne’er be ignored,
So that myself hears only light in rhyme.
Never to be lost in forests of doubt
Or magnifying flaws seeking lifeblood,
That art could deliciously bear it out,
And want for naught, all joy within me flood;
That seeds art lured from the pebble souled mud,
So sweet, the sound; mine ever blooming bud.