 | Anne Evans: Poems and Music |  |
41
SONNET.
[Poor lonely heart, aching with passionate woe!]
Poor lonely heart, aching with passionate woe!If that keen fire must needs burn down and die
Beyond the reach of mortal ear and eye,
Turn pain to patience: prove its virtue so.
Didst thou then hope thy fellow-hearts could know
What riches there within thy dark ward lie?
O hope forlorn! The many passing by
Dream not of ores the common dust below.
Of shallow streams the herd are fain to drink,
Which dry and leave them at their utmost need;
Yet spy they not the spring within its cave,
Whose deeper waters ever touch the brink;
While day by day, through screening rock and weed,
Blind echoes idly move them in their grave!
| Anne Evans: Poems and Music | |