 | The lesson of life and other poems |  |
143
SONNET.
What trophies of lost splendor line the way,That sad, laborious path which lies between
Expression and Idea! Where words are seen
As sunrise mists appear, which hide the ray
That, unobscured, might break to perfect day;
Though glow the clouds with red and golden sheen,
Beneath a sun, far brighter, shines we ween,
Hid by the mists that form this prospect gay.
Thus when vague words the thoughts of Genius light,
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Though they may glow, the pure Idea is lost,
And nought but dim reflection meets the sight.
Sad is it that such light from earth should pass!
For want of language to oblivion tossed.
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