Love Sonnet 174 I held a rose and got pricked by its thorn,
I held a rose and got pricked by its thorn,
The pretty rose is joy, the thorn is pain,
Such as I walk through life wherewith I'm born,
I hold joys presage pains I'm to obtain;
So I grilled stars, and enrich wishing wells,
In Almanacs I pried when to begin,
Wizards I sought for apt hexes and spells,
All to augur for chance, there's love to win;
But Destiny proceeds better, or worse,
Like day that follows night, as though of hope,
Or night that follows day, as though a curse,
Yet, till this time, in thick darkness I grope;
......But even in the light, with love that's blind,
......Truth still proves as impossible to find.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
Added by Poetry Lover
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