Sonnet 29

I ought to wear a mask lest I, by loving glance,
Divulge the yearnings that are running through my mind,
Betraying my regard to others of my kind
Although I sometimes think that I might take that chance.
I ought to bind my hands lest I, by gentle touch,
Declaim the wild desires coursing through my veins
I’m left with deep frustration for my silent pains:
I never thought to care for any man this much.
With all my dreaming, my imagination flies.
I must be mute, for I may never tell a soul.
It’s never easy to maintain such strong control
I cannot purge my thoughts, no matter how I try:
To rest within your arms has been my greatest wish,
But meat for scandal’s never been my favoured dish.