Sonnet for the sparrow and its broken wing; Sonnet for the duchess and her entourage; Sonnet for the songbird yet entombed

Would that my hunger could be far removed
So that my love could stay beside my hand,
She takes a flight betwixt our heat behooved
Where light is buried 'neath the summer's sand.
We stood still in dread as Night broke her bread,
Her dreamy shawl that slithers on my floor;
Her head, resting quiet, lit on a bed
As a child is knocking upon her door.
I wonder, I fly in the fog-worn sky
As distance becomes the plot of the sun
I reach and I gasp to grasp and to sigh
For still my penance had not yet been won!
I loved her, a friend, eternal, we end
All of remembrance on which I depend.