Edith Matilda Thomas (1854–1925)

GRANT me twice seven splendid words, O Muse

(Like jewel pauses on a rosary chain,

To tell us where the aves start again);

Of these, in each verse, one I mean to use—

Like Theseus in the labyrinth—for clues

To help lost Fancy striving in the brain;

And, Muse, if thou wilt still so kindly deign,

Make my rhymes move by courtly twos and twos!

Oh, pardon, shades of Avon and Vaucluse,

This rush-light burning where your lamps yet shine!

A sonnet should be like the cygnet’s cruise

On polished waters; or like smooth old wine,

Or earliest honey garnered in May dews!

And all be laid before some fair love’s shrine!