Sonnet
If our life be less than a morning in eternity, if the revolving year drive on our days without a hope of return, if everything that's born must die,
What dost thou dream, O my imprisoned soul? Why dost thou joy in the darkness of our day, since on thy back thou hast plumed wings to soar to clearer heights?
There is the good that every soul desires; there is the rest for which the world doth yearn; there love is and there too is pleasure.
There, O my soul, led to the highest heaven, thou shalt perceive the Idea of Beauty which in this world I do adore!
What dost thou dream, O my imprisoned soul? Why dost thou joy in the darkness of our day, since on thy back thou hast plumed wings to soar to clearer heights?
There is the good that every soul desires; there is the rest for which the world doth yearn; there love is and there too is pleasure.
There, O my soul, led to the highest heaven, thou shalt perceive the Idea of Beauty which in this world I do adore!
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.