Copper Sun (Cullen)/Sonnet to a Scornful Lady
Sonnet to a Scornful Lady
(To Ruth Marie)
LIKE some grim gladiator who has foughtMen loving life as lustily as he,And with red wounds and blood has dearly boughtA forced reprieve from those who came to seeHim die; a suppliant on gory kneesLike him, lean with my passion’s hunger, ILay bare the bruises of my heart, with theseImploring, “Love me, lady, or I die.”
But unlike him I hear no populaceEnamoured of a brave bout, crying, “Grace!”Scorn rules your eyes as silence does your mouth;No golden sceptre raises me from whereI kneel unfavored finding you still fairThough both your regal thumbs are pointed south.