Sonnet 73

Would I have known to be alone in pain,
If my lonely ways did not hinder me?
Then I would call thee by thy tender name,
And I would be in love with non but thee.
But I am trapped in the month of November,
Where I have seen thee in my sorrowful dreams,
For 'twas thy scars that I tend to remember
And I grant thee no more love than I do these.
For thou hast been my sun and my bright moon
To rise at night and haunt me in the day
To force me to find rest upon late noon
For thou hath left me gone, to lay, then fade
      In my lonely ways that always hinder me
      For I shall love no one in wake but thee