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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226
SONNET.
THE CHALICE OF LIFE.
Alas! whatever nectars may be pouredIn Life's clay-chalice, every drop will still
Taste of its earthy vessel!—dull and chill,
All vainly with sweet draughts divinely stored!—
Yes! there is still that ashy taste, abhorred,
Which, with such sweetness can accord but ill—
And though blind Fate, perchance, may fill—and fill
With wine of joy—these things but ill accord!
Till that clay chalice shall be broken all,
Scattered in fragments, in its native dust—
So shall it still for evermore befall!—
So shall it be for ever, and it must!—
Alas! the taste of wormwood and of gall
Clings to that chalice oft!—yet in its clay we trust!
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