Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

The city of Byzantium
I imagine like a bezel-jewel
Guarded in a golden ring,
But it is far away.

Some think where I have come
A wilderness cold and cruel,
Savage, dark, and unyielding,
But I am in her sway.

If between the two I succumb
Beholden to the dual
What town would of me sing?
Which shore would know my lay?

Am I to sail to such a shore, or stay and save
This world — or slip away into the ocean wave?

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This entry was posted in Sonnets.

2 comments on “Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

  1. diddicoy says:

    By a happy accedient I came by your blog. So far I have only read the above, but let me say I am floored! If were in possession of a hat I’d take it off to you.

  2. Irving says:

    A lovely and beguiling sonnet, brother :)

    Ya Haqq!

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