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Sonnet III

Saint John the Baptist by Leonardo Da Vinci

In aspen woods there is a sacred space,

Which by the Bones I think the Crow had roost,

And there I took my craft: needle, thread, and lace,

And sewed Love’s idol. But not Cupid I’produced,

Not that casual boy, of the blind arrow,

But someone with a honey jar, sweets plenty,

And without wings, but an earthy barrow,

Where no eros fly, but grow in years many,

I sewed a Man’s great arms, love must lift much,

Above a Woman’s hands, must tender bruise,

Under Child’s eyes, love sees with tender touch,

With Lion’s grin, for you I’d much bemuse,

So what then was the figure I had sown?

Naught but this one, which now to you I’ve shown.

Cheers to your Sunday morning…


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