• Shall I compare thee to a new born spring?
    Thou reared more buds and vines from bitter dust,
    Thy breeze sways juvenile hearts' bad dealing,
    Heartening souls to good hast ever lust.

    Serve as star to youths mislead in hallows,
    Lanterns art mudded compared to thy heart;
    Thou bring thy scions’ flairs to the shallows,
    Thou wilt be the bringer of hopes apart.

    ―Winter, summer, and fall― they dare not spring,
    All mothers born art from thy fruitful self;
    Leaves of new age hast girdled in fair rings,
    Thy beauty shames constellations to shelf.

    Thy entity surpasses any spring,
    To those in doubt, to truth, let minds be sprung.

    heart