premonitions

(Shakespearean Sonnet)

He had a particular longing tone, Urgent and slight diffident in words. Hardly thought me temperance prone, Then under incognito ran tears in herds. Always carried the solemn frown of age, Mostly forlorn where companies absent. Still his insatiable lust and lost on the page, Till Sophie with me came in most decent. It was before soon he found me his muse; A little venture or last to tread to the grounds. Lured in with no keen conscience to refuse The offering that promise pain without sounds. But he knew well his course while standing near, When I confessed words he denied to hear.

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