Sonnets written chiefly during a tour through Holland, Germany, Italy, Turkey, and Hungary. By Lady Emmeline Stuart Wortley |
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SONNET.
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126
SONNET.
[Why! what is Music to my soul?—thy name!—]
Why! what is Music to my soul?—thy name!—And what is Beauty?—every thought of thee!—
And what is Joy?—thy radiant memory!—
And what is Light?—thy pure and spotless fame!—
Yet Light to this is dull, and drear, and tame,—
And Joy, to dreams so bless'd must lifeless be!—
And Beauty near those thoughts' rich sovereignty—
A shaméd thing—and Music's self the same!—
Ah! Music's sweetest voice were harsh and rude
Near that dear name, a melody supreme!—
By my o'er-raptured sense full keenly wooed!—
Thou art to me an Everlasting Dream—
Too perfect to be real—in mystic mood—
Thy visioned form to hail and bless I seem.
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