Sonnet 20
Breeze, thou art nature's most magical gift,
Rendering joy where the heat is too much.
Every mountain feels thy incredible drift,
Every creature knows thy power with such.
Entrancing beauty, though not to be seen,
Ere losing thy image throughout all time;
Everlasting glory like of a queen,
Except thou hast not committed a crime.
Enjoying thy breath has no alike touch,
Even marriage or dessert or true love.
Ending thy lifeblood would end hope's frail clutch,
End all life's blessings from Heaven above.
Zeal thou hast filled me with, O wind devine,
Evermore will thou have this heart of mine.