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Sonnets : a sequence on profane love by George Henry Boker | ||
126
[CCXVIII. The present only do we hold in thrall]
The present only do we hold in thrall;The past is gone, and all its glories hushed;
The kiss we parted and the blush you blushed
As rosy summons to our rapturous fall.
Nor, were I able, would I now recall
Our earliest love; such fiery wine has gushed
Beneath his feet, triumphant, passion-flushed,
Since to each other we were all in all.
Ah God! and shall the future, vague and dread,
Fit to those limbs a robe of moveless snow,
And place a garland on that wondrous head?
Shall every atom, as the ages go,
Sever, to mingle with the dusty dead,
And be the wonder of the gods below?
December 26, 1866
Sonnets : a sequence on profane love by George Henry Boker | ||