Sonnet O' Wise Love

To persevere through thy hard gritful mind,
Crossing the bent of pleasures greatest tool,
The lowly saint averts his eyes to find,
A lass to push away, to be a fool.
She abides outside far from thy revel;
Ready thinking to forgive thy raw lust.
Ready modest, her looks m'lodic treble;
Walking submissions way to give all trust.
And thou may speak, her doorway's narrow studs,
Complaint of sharp ground to evade thy trudge.
Since you excuse your sin still tightly grasp'd,
The lass, she leaves to bless the man she clasp'd.
And by the love you plung'd, failing to ease,
Hear the wise words, awaken not love until it please.

By Evan Gunn Wilson