Sonnet VII

As slowly as my writhing life doth seep
Forth from my mind and soul and heart, I pray
That like shall be your willingness to keep
Alive all we create 'til that far day,
When all that we have known and loved and lost
Has passed away in greyness and in ash.
But frail this hope is held against the cost
Of what has passed of which I bear the lash.
For hands of ice have surely grabbed your heart
And taken pris'ner all those tender schemes
Which once I thought would never stray and part
From all the private oaths that formed our dreams.

	'Though may not warmth of friendship overcome
	And melt the bonds, that harm may be undone?