I met a man who told me tales of wand’ring
long on lonesome trails of silvered hazel wood,
where by a stream he dreamed, and his pond’ring
the ships he sailed, and battles fought as he could.
Then how his dream seemed more real than all of this—
of his darling’s kiss, how missed, and what he should
have done. Now old, I think of his dreamed kiss,
his plans altered and rued. I instead stayed,
cast wishes on waters true, finding bliss
with you, I thank that man, his lesson taught,
grateful my hopes granted in love long sought.
Another sonnet for dVerse, this time in Terza Rima, with thoughts, too, of enjambment, per Jilly’s post. I’m still reading the sonnets, and I’m so impressed with the philosophical questioning. I seem only to be able to write these narrative type sonnets. This started out as a poem based on a Yeats challenge, Jane Dougherty did a while ago. If you want to read that version, it’s here. So indirectly, this is inspired by Yeats. Feel free to comment.