George Henry Boker

October 6, 1823 – January 2, 1890 / United States

Sonnet Cii:

CII

My Darling's temper is beyond compare,
Tender and gentle in its will to me;
Yielding so nimbly and so gracefully,
I find no cause for quarrel anywhere.
I am as easily ruffled as the sea,
That swells with passion at the viewless air;
And rage in storms of pitiless despair
At the least breath of passing jealousy.
Yet she so softly broods above my soul,
That all my days of tranquil sweetness glide
In one long golden and unbroken tide.
Despite my nature, her serene control
Subdues, without offense, my touchy pride;
Bows, and yet conquers; yields, but rules the whole.
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