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VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXIX. |
XXX. |
XXXI. |
XXXII. |
XXXIII. |
XXXIV. |
XXXV. |
XXXVI. |
XXXVII. |
XXXVIII. |
XXXIX. |
XL. |
XLI. |
XLII. |
XLIII. |
XLIV. |
XLV. |
XLVI. | SONNET XLVI.
UNSOLVED. |
XLVII. |
XLVIII. |
XLIX. |
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LI. |
LII. |
LIII. |
LIV. |
LV. |
LVI. |
LVII. |
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IV. |
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VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
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IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
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VII. |
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The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | ||
SONNET XLVI. UNSOLVED.
Maimed from my birth, and nowise fair to see,
The soul aflame in me was keen and strong
To shape my sorrows into burning song;
Such was I when she first discovered me.
O face, O voice, O one sweet memory!
Her touch I thought a trifle kind and long
For mere indifference; but I did her wrong
To think upon a thing that could not be.
The soul aflame in me was keen and strong
To shape my sorrows into burning song;
Such was I when she first discovered me.
O face, O voice, O one sweet memory!
Her touch I thought a trifle kind and long
For mere indifference; but I did her wrong
To think upon a thing that could not be.
I said, “'T is only pity makes her kind,
I will not vex her by a useless pain;”
And turned me from the sunlight of her face: —
Now I am old, not only maimed, but blind;
I cannot guess if love did wax or wane,
And God alone her spirit's veil shall raise.
I will not vex her by a useless pain;”
And turned me from the sunlight of her face: —
Now I am old, not only maimed, but blind;
I cannot guess if love did wax or wane,
And God alone her spirit's veil shall raise.
The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | ||