by Luis G. Dato
O punctuate my sonnets with your voice,
Give periods and the commas to my lines,
For word with word with slippery ease combines,
And in the process difficult the choice.
Mix, intersperse love with earth-earthy Joyce,
In full career my steeds have thrown their reins,
At times to gloom the narrowed pen resigns,
And but your accents may bid it rejoice,
Do send across the silver of your song.
Some word to sparkle in my wormwood dark,
Lift me above the sloughs that deepening throng,
That heartened I ascend lithe like the lark
At dawn to soar with song the clouds among,
And going down find in your heart my mark.