 | Areytos or songs and ballads of the South |  |
SONNET.—ALAS! AND THIS IS ALL.
Alas! and this is all! and thus we toilIn spirit, while the sweet repose of night
Gives respite to the happier crowds who moil
While day yields labor its twelve hours of light—
Sweet rest to us denied—through worlds remote,
Still piercing ever with the dreamer's flight,
In nature's mockery oft, in reason's spite,
Wooing the vague creations of our thought—
Shaping out shrines for worship—realms of dream,
That glitter on our wreck—receive our prayer
To fling it back in echoes on our ear,
Such as the fiends, grown wild in hellish scheme,
Delight to mingle with our songs of cheer,
Startling the soul's best raptures with a sneer!
| Areytos or songs and ballads of the South | |