Sonnet Three

So long hath the soul troubled her being
For the heart knowest tis only a tick:
The end so far may seem; the beg’nning
knocks the bell, and announces thee sick.
How can thine eyes survive what none can stop?
How can thy soul perish long ‘fore thy body?
My poor words, soar throat, rusty hands top
My faulty heart, and anguish: the rem’dy.
I see though my eyes are gone, and hear
Though my sense is lost, and tend
To tell a friend that time hath no fear
But that I would never fall, nor bend.
If the clock sayth to us all tis due,
I will be the one to stand and subdue.

12:28 sometime in May, 2015

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