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Rated: E · Poetry · Romance/Love · #2222423
A sonnet composed as if Lord Byron never knew the peaks and valleys of love and intimacy.
I longed for love, as pure as driven snow
    and virgin, before Youth's brief joys succumb; 
but, for me, love never transpired; and, although 
    heartbroken, I persevered 'til life's autumn. 
A lass, princess, or queen have I never 
    loved, or with ardent nymph have passion-proved 
lust's longing fire; thus, deprived for ever, 
    I disavowed former hopes for my beloved. 
Unblemished, pure, artless, and innocent,
    without sin, if not virtuous from here to east,   
I cast'd aside my youth's salacious bent;
    and shunned my lusts as if I were a priest.
Now old and bootless, I've ne'er known desire;
or pierced the flower of a maid on fire.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2222423