This sonnet is yet another about unprofessed love. I wrote it rather hurriedly a few years ago while waiting for my father at his doctor's appointment, and while I don't consider it to be one of my better sonnets, it's straightforward and pretty well crafted. Very "by the book." It's one of those poems I've never sent out to editors and never will. The reason I'm posting it today, despite my lukewarm feelings for it, is that I'm running out of poems to post, believe it or not! I'm not what you'd call prolific, and am known to go through long periods without writing a word of verse. Plus which, my life has been so blessedly even and uneventful lately, I even find it hard to write a journal post. I am definitely not a disciplined, work-a-day kind of writer! Would that I were.
The Right
I could not love you more if you were mine,
Or were I to proclaim it by a vow,
To promise till the end of earthly time
What I had promised once and promise now.
I would not love you less were I to live
The whole of life deprived of your consent,
That sacred confidence you cannot give,
Without which I would still remain content.
If love is judged by time and trial withstood,
And vows are made to God and not to flesh,
Then you are mine by right of faithfulness,
And mine by right of willing you His good.
Though it may slumber silent in my breast,
My right to love you will not die unblessed.
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