 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
205
THEORY.
How fair and facile seems that upland road!Surely the mountain air is fresh and sweet,
And briskly shall I bear this mortal load
With well-braced sinews and unweary feet;
How dear my fellow pilgrims oft to greet
O'ertaken, as to reach yon blest abode
We strive together, in glad hope to meet
With angels, and as equal priests and kings,
All that in life we once have loved so well,
So those we loved be worthy: her bright wings
My willing spirit plumes, and upward springs
Rejoicing, over crag and fen and fell,
And down—or up—the cliff's precipitous face,
To run or fly her buoyant happy race.
| Three Hundred Sonnets | |