 | Sonnets |  |
10
TO A. D.
You took proud words and touched their meagre blood,
You gave them wine and oil and the full grain,
The rose of love, the sacraments of Pain
And Death and Joy, and Beauty where she stood
Ineffable, like a beatitude,
And washed in silver dawns and golden rain;
You would not stoop for praises or for gain,
And you have wrought us nothing else but good.
You gave them wine and oil and the full grain,
The rose of love, the sacraments of Pain
And Death and Joy, and Beauty where she stood
Ineffable, like a beatitude,
And washed in silver dawns and golden rain;
You would not stoop for praises or for gain,
And you have wrought us nothing else but good.
They see your soul, on flaming vans of song,
Flash past the prisons, and they shake their bars
With rage and malice; where there is no light
They sit contriving mockeries and wrong;
They know you have possessions in the stars,
And they must spit at you their little spite.
Flash past the prisons, and they shake their bars
With rage and malice; where there is no light
They sit contriving mockeries and wrong;
They know you have possessions in the stars,
And they must spit at you their little spite.
| Sonnets | |