A Reflection of Shakespeare’s sonnet 75
By James Elzie
So to my dreams you become as dirt to death,
Or as salt that scours fertile earth;
from our strife I gain such calm,
as exists between beggar and poverty.
Now shamed as absconder and later
to trust that charity assures my wealth.
Then cruel world, you view my angst;
repulsing the thought: your face in my eyes
never willing, to see you more.
As great joy was given to you,
so do I not suffer,
nor grieve?
In this way I will not
starve my spirit unto oblivion.
Clamor 