The Stringing of Pearls

Gently pass to me a pearl, my darling,
That we found along the quiet lake shore
Or from tongues found across the Bosphorus
Or when we sat on suns of orange and ochre.
Softly pass to me a pearl, my dearest,
For to guard against the famine of life,
The plague of the heart, the crushing of hope,
My rival, the dark-skinned one, and his strife.
Slowly pass to me a pearl, my lovely,
One for the memory of yesterdays,
One for the poor and helpless soul in pain,
One for Spanish suns that set in pale rays.
O love, pass to me one last pearl and see
This necklace of ecstasy strung for thee.

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This entry was posted in Sonnets.

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