To Jude, on the Night of Sue's Marriage

an Italian Sonnet in response to Thomas Hardy's "Jude the Obscure"

Oh, Jude, you look and search, though she is not
enframing in the window now, to chafe
the weathered love in you entombed. But safe,
you sit by vapid fire; remember thought,
and fate, and how you chanced it all for naught.
When she uncovered secrets, as a waif
she left you; homeless orphan, drink a wave
of memory; taste that for which you fought.
Why do you love the suffering - beget
it forth again? Again the salt is sweet
of tears, and pain reminds you of her smile.
Addiction found in this: this lonely isle,
this obscure land of memory. Though bleak, 
you rummage in the past. Must not forget.