Sonnets written chiefly during a tour through Holland, Germany, Italy, Turkey, and Hungary. By Lady Emmeline Stuart Wortley |
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TO ------ |
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228
TO ------
Thour't lost to Life!—and all thy virtues flown,
But serve to make us feel more lost and lone;
But it is well with thee—I must believe,
Though not with us, who but survive to grieve.
But serve to make us feel more lost and lone;
But it is well with thee—I must believe,
Though not with us, who but survive to grieve.
Ah! was't not weary still to bear a Life
Darkened by sorrow, bitterness, and strife;
A Life, whose starry crown was far away,
Hid midst the Pomps of Heaven in Realms of Day!
Darkened by sorrow, bitterness, and strife;
A Life, whose starry crown was far away,
Hid midst the Pomps of Heaven in Realms of Day!
Was it not weary still a Life to bear,
Subject to human wrong and mortal care,
Whose beauty and whose glory were afar—
Distant, and yet unreached as some bright star!
Subject to human wrong and mortal care,
Whose beauty and whose glory were afar—
Distant, and yet unreached as some bright star!
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