“Taunt to Thy light”©

With Thee thine own aspire to closeness secure;

argal, doth thou raise thine arms, thou art glad,

for thine hands Thou hast appointed and anointed

Thee servants of old, Thine heart for man laden sad,

Hearest naught and careth naught for thee lost…

hearth of Thine own desire produced Thy furnace,

the furnace of fire quenched by trial’s sorrow…

the morrow finds Thee Thy servant’s circumstance,

with Thee found great joy, patience endureth to

benighted plight thine enemy wouldest foist…

Thou art God, Thine servants sought Thee out,

Thy grace and mercy, in love, beseeched gains hoist,

for Thee thy bosom labours, taunt to Thy light,

triumph cometh thrust through virtue sought right.

This inspired by another’s endeavor… to create a sonnet in Olde English stylized writing, one Khalique Rahman.