 | Poems by James Hyslop
|  |
|
LVII.
Sonnet from Camoens.
Where shall I find some lonely wilderness,
So distant from the world and all its woes,
That I may never see a human face,
Nor sound of beast or bird break my repose?
Some darksome thicket, amidst crags and rocks,
Or melancholy wood, sad and obscure,
With no clear fount, green grass, nor bleating flocks;
But gloomy like the miseries I endure?
There, in the desert's solitary gloom,
I'd let the fountain of my sorrows free,
Buried in life, and weeping in the tomb,
For all the woes this world has had for me.
Then days of gladness would not cause a tear,
And days of woe to me be very dear.
| Poems by James Hyslop
| |
|
