. Sonnet VI. Fiona Zheng Violinist Fiona Zheng and her father spent part of their lives fleeing communist authorities in China after her mother and grandmother were killed for refusing to renounce their peaceful practice of Falun Gong. Oh the sumptuously sorrowful sound Heaving tales of the years on the road: Torn from mother and ransacked abode, Waking up in some place on the ground. When she rises and looks all around At her luggage, a scant little load, It’s as if she has broken a code, For she sees her violin has been bound In an energy, hope for the future— Such a meaning she’d not seen before Midst the burden of practicing’s bore. Soon she sheds an invisible suture On her flawlessly flying fine fingers, Leaving marvelous music that lingers. . . Sonnet VII. Prince Fortinbras When Hamlet is performed or made a movie, Almost always they leave this prince out. Directors simply say, “Since it behooves me, Cut it. The play’s too long and fine without.” Or is it? Denmark rots but he does not; While Hamlet asks, “To be or not to be?” He raises men who’d die upon the spot— An army with poetic bravery— And in the final scene when “this fell sergeant, Death” arrives to claim his cold reward, From Heaven’s grace, comes he, a vital agent, Who wields a regal hope and peaceful sword. To cut out Fortinbras is thus quite tragic; He shows the wider scope of Life’s grand magic. . . Evan Mantyk is President of the Society and teaches English literature and history in the Hudson Valley region of New York.