The Secluded Scholar (a sonnet)
The shadows on the wall grow long and dark
as golden afternoon begins to fade
and dwindle to a gray and wat’ry mark
that dampens now the joyous noise of day.
Do you remember, dearest, when you bade
me to fill up those shining afternoons
by making for my yellowed books a trade:
dust for air and twilight dark for bright noon?
Those lovely days have left us far too soon,
as treasured daytime bold creeps into night.
Oh, if your joyous love I could exhume,
the coming dusk would be no fearful sight!
I long for your bright laugh and golden looks,
for I am choked at night by dusty books.
