The first of these two sonnets, lost unpublished a few years after its penning, was rewritten by the poet, word for word, from memory, thirty five years later when its companion was created.

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Recorded Reading (2:17): https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/jisln24vdaa3sef3av34k/In-Melancholy-Made-In-Joy-Realized.mp3?rlkey=mnaeo1ahzmmehjapeudq8x3tc&dl=0

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In Melancholy Made

A poet is in melancholy made
In hopeless silence, with each bitter tear
Nay, little doth one ken the price that’s paid
For priceless words inheritors shall hear

Remember when ye hearest it confesst
And judge ye not its truth too swift to know
We took the groaning world unto our breast
That in that breast its suffering might grow

Until we, overwhelmed by its sad truth,
Are ready among fellow men to go
And bare our inmost souls to say our sooth
Reminding fortune’s child of others’ woe

Thus serving humankind’s most ancient need
By sowing sweet compassion’s sacred seed

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In Joy Realized

A poet is in joy most realized
In celebration of each happy thing
So oft ignored, yea, too often despised,
To all, without exception, heaven bring

O streaming sunshine, making beaut’eous rays
Upon the shoulder of the mountainside!
O women of comforting quiet ways,
The sparkling eyes and smile of a new bride,

The skipping dancing little children of
When they are in an excess of delight,
The daily healing miracles of love,
The daily healing miracles of Light!

So much of happiness a poet see
If seen aright, would ever happy be

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This poet presently lives at a fraction of her nation’s poverty level.

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