|Home: Poetry: Matthew J. Dunham: Another Sonnet|
Why is it that when glancing,
With the facets of mine eye.
I find not that which pleases me,
But that which is awry?
Although I seek for love,
I find naught but bitter hate.
And deep within I find regret,
Upon which I contemplate.
I think upon the state of things,
On Summer, Spring, the love it brings.
The fire in the eyes of man,
On making love upon the sand.
On love and hate, on peace and war,
The seabirds hopping on the shore.
As I muse on these varied things,
I wonder what my death shall bring.