 | My Sonnets |  |
[My books! my books! your very names my tongue]
My books! my books! your very names my tongueDwells on with love. How have I welcomed each
Of you with trembling joy, such joy as speech
In vain would syllable! How have I hung,
When came some new-found stranger you among,
For hours, upon his name alone! The beach
Of the Atlantic, thus, he, who dared reach,
O'er seas where never the wild winds had sung
To sleep the wandering mariner before,
The far world and the islands of the West,
Columbus, loved to pace, while, from the shore,
His fancy fled, alighting but to rest
When o'er the spicy Indian groves it came.
Thus, through the unknown thoughts, I launch me from the name.
November 14th, 1842.
| My Sonnets | |