Sonnet II The spark which lights my innermost desire, whose flame burns fierce in Spirit and in vein, your blinding glory makes my heart aspire to grasp the highest good one can attain. Of all the worthy joys that I could gain from all the ecstasies of earth’s delights, I’d bask in all the glory of your fame before I sink to know those lesser sprites. And if I’m yet to know those holy heights, the strength of which would make my soul a king, aside your royal passion and your light I’d finally come to grasp those greater things. The world that cannot know of such delight stands back and trembles lamely at the sight. Sonnet III My love is likened to a rose in winter by those who pick the daffodils in spring, but those who pick the daffodils do hinder the beauty that the dainty flower brings. For they are not all worthy of such things; such timeless beauty can’t and won’t be wrought by brutish hands that dominate and squeeze and crush the precious beauty that they sought. And for the brutish laity, who thought that my poor rose would wither out and sour: it is pure love and gentleness that brought to springing life all of God’s wondrous flowers. So let the spring time lovers have their fill, in winter I will love my sweet rose still. Justin Monelt is a 22-year-old poet living in New York. Featured Image: "The Sonnet" by William Mulready.