 | Zóphiël ; or, the bride of seven |  |
lvii
SONNET TO THE MEMORY OF MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE.
By the Author of “Orion.”
We gaze into blue depths of Western skies,Where Cuba sleeps 'neath stars and starlike suns:
The splendor brims and overfills our eyes,
Till earth's dark sandglass stops, or scarcely runs.
We note, amidst the host, one special light:
Our thoughts then melt toward the eternal Giver
Of pure infinitude to mortal sight:
We look again; that light is gone forever!
Where hath it gone? where hath its glory fled?
Is the world struck with blindness, or with error?
Who saw it as we saw it? what delight or terror
Can picture its bright throne among the dead?
Alas for that soul's fire!— lost, shot astray,
Leaving few records in our night or day!
RICHARD HENGIST HORNE. Sept. 12, 1872.
| Zóphiël ; or, the bride of seven | |