The Walter Robin Manuscripts

With a will and a way and a carefree grace: She’s the fairest form in all creation.; All virtue is written in her eyes and face; Is she not fit for my adoration?
I have studied the arts, wit, music, and love: Often tested and tried in honor’s fire; With a ready tongue and a ready glove; Prove I not worthy of my desire?
The marks of Love, are in me seen complete: I endeavor to rest, but to no avail; With a fevered brow, and no stomach for meat.; My hounding thoughts follow no other trail.
Knowing a torment that never shall end,
For she declares she can be but a friend.

My first true Shakespearean sonnet, written in iambic pentameter. Courtly love conventions and personal experience weave together nicely.

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