Sonnet, How Strange's This Feeling (From, The Lost Sonnets) Poem by Peter S. Quinn

How strange's this feeling so full of a fright:
When hours are deeper and darker more still,
When there is no room for the heavenly light
And nothing of love shall prosper at will;
I woke up so early but then dimmed the sky
And onto my shoulders the darkness was shown,
I thought I'd fall down and last breath out fly
And into hollow dim fall like a stone.

The words are like leaves that are wased away
When after summer autumn comes with rain,
Before the frost lays the lake with a freeze;
Sun I had one summer and then for a day:
All beauty be measured simple and plain,
Though some have its clothings in fine cointise.