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 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
16
SONNET XXI. PERSISTENT MUSIC.
Lo! what am I, my heart, that I should dare
To love her, who will never love again,—
I, standing out here in the wind and rain,
With feet unsandalled and uncovered hair,
Singing sad words to a still sadder air,
Who know not even if my song's refrain—
“Of sorrow, sorrow! loved, oh, loved in vain!”—
May reach her where she sits and hath no care.
To love her, who will never love again,—
I, standing out here in the wind and rain,
With feet unsandalled and uncovered hair,
Singing sad words to a still sadder air,
Who know not even if my song's refrain—
“Of sorrow, sorrow! loved, oh, loved in vain!”—
May reach her where she sits and hath no care.
But I will sing in every man's despite;
Yea, too, and love, and sing of love until
My music mixes with her dreams at night;
That when Death says to me, “Lie down, be still!”
She, pausing for my voice, and list'ning long,
May know its silence sadder than its song.
Yea, too, and love, and sing of love until
My music mixes with her dreams at night;
That when Death says to me, “Lie down, be still!”
She, pausing for my voice, and list'ning long,
May know its silence sadder than its song.
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |