Sonnet 3 — After WS
Dan WildScatter my ashes in your vale of kings,Or by a pond secure from frosty wind;Or lake, perhaps, where yesterday’s tidingsBring repose and solace I might yet findFrom the harsh sun that burnt me brown as duskIn autumn. Winter is yet to come, I fear,When sheilas dress refined and smell of muskWhile silent Indian gurus are …