Johnse’s Sonnet (from Hatfield & McCoy)

I am not, as you suppose,
A voice of Reason: none of those
Have ever made a Lemon sweet
Or taken pleasure from a Rose.
Nor am I a Poet’s feet
Whose dainty steps you follow fleet
To lofty Heights and airy Thoughts
But never take you down the Street.
No, nor am I the Solace sought
In hermits Harbor, bravely bought
In God We Trust, Faith’s currency -
I’ve never had a Holy thought.
     No, I am Love, strange, small and weak,
     Whose Imperfections Hope you seek.

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