Classic Poem

IF BUT HE MIGHT CATCH SIGHT OF LAURA'S DWELLING, HIS SIGHS WOULD THE MORE RAPIDLY REACH HER

If this wide valley-guarded wall of stone,
From which its present name we closely trace,
Had been by nature levelled, overthrown,
Its back to Babel and to Rome its face,
Then had my sighs an easier passage known
To where their hope abides in shining grace:
Now they move singly, though one grief they moan;
Each struggles through the stone to the same place.
Once there, I must observe, such welcome greets
Each separate sigh, that none comes back again,
But ravished there of grief, must there remain.
So for this heart each savage dawn repeats
No sight, alas, for which the spirit sighs,
But travail for the flesh, tears for the eyes.