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All English Sonnets


Standing on the threshold of my door,
You watch me delve in endless rivelleries,
And on your statue milk and honey pour,
Indulge in showy rituals endlessly.

And to your presence blinded I have lived,
Mistaken offerings of my pelf and ware,
Would summon you to me, Ah! Unaware,
That you are Omni-present, I have grieved.

With muted, silent steps you ever-come,
But I was busy in my petty chores,
You keep on standing, silent and mum,
In likewise manner at the hapless doors.

All , I have got to do, is shed the noise.
To see your rustling presence, matchless poise.

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