Sonnet no. 1
Shall I compare thee to a shooting star?
While a summer’s day may seem the fitter,
Your unparalleled grace to it would mar,
And in your presence would its charm wither.
For one can always find a summer’s day.
Summertide is not fleeting nor chary.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
But you, my dear, need not be weary.
A shooting star is an uncommon sight.
Generations come and go, they see none.
You, my dear, have shown me that holy light,
The moment I met you, my heart strings came undone.
So long as I am capable of love,
I love you in the name of God above.
—Grace Tytus-Vought
This article appears in March 2017.
