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My Sonnets

[by W. C. Bennett]

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[Above dominions, high o'er sceptred kings]
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25

[Above dominions, high o'er sceptred kings]

Above dominions, high o'er sceptred kings,
Man thrones the poet. The far-flashing sun,
Whose dazzling majesty the eyes of none,
Of mortal birth, dare look on, as it flings
Its noontide splendour down, and, forward, springs,
Its course, down the blue slopes of heaven, to run,
Lights up yon sea of mist, that, one by one,
Buries the mountain tops, and the fair things
That make earth lovely, till the white waves gleam
With hues as rich as in the rainbow dwell;
Splendour fast fleeting. Yonder flashing stream
Of golden mist shall pass, and nothing tell
Its being.—Kings are yon fast-darkening sea;
Poets the suns of far futurity.
November 7th, 1842.