Forty-Six (Shakespearean Sonnet)


Incendiary darts from clouds so bleak:
Exposed, we now a mighty castle spy
And refuge ‘hind its rocky ramparts seek.
The Warrior there for fear will never fly.

Well-watered are the castle grounds, and fair;
The melody of gladness echoes strong.
The confidence of vict’ry fills the air:
Dawn’s pyrotechnics complement the song.

The Warrior wields His sword to vanquish war,
Especially the strife against Himself.
All weapons dulled, the shafts will fly no more
There will be peace, and all things shall be well.

No iron portcullis bars the entrance there:
The Castle-Warrior’s presence gladly shared.



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