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قراءة كتاب Sonnets from the Patagonian
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اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 6
class="x-ebookmaker-pageno" title="[Pg 31]"/>
FAILURE AT FORTY
He saw there was no choice to left or right—
Time that had marked him for the least of sages
Pointed the hour, and several blotted pages
Stood witness to the struggle in the night.
Behind him lay a happiness that might
Have made him shine a figure through the ages;
Before him loomed a toiling at mean wages,
Alternative to sinking out of sight.
Time that had marked him for the least of sages
Pointed the hour, and several blotted pages
Stood witness to the struggle in the night.
Behind him lay a happiness that might
Have made him shine a figure through the ages;
Before him loomed a toiling at mean wages,
Alternative to sinking out of sight.
This much was sure—he never need retrace;
The leagues that he had travelled were an ending.
There wound no footpath to a sunlit place,
Where he might nurse his dreams, with peace attending.
No promised joy would quicken the day's pace,
Nor write the past a blunder still worth mending.
The leagues that he had travelled were an ending.
There wound no footpath to a sunlit place,
Where he might nurse his dreams, with peace attending.
No promised joy would quicken the day's pace,
Nor write the past a blunder still worth mending.
PORTRAIT OF A GENTLEMAN AND
A LADY
To
Enid Welsh
Enid Welsh
ASPENS AT CRESHEIM
She had become a stranger suddenly,
Just as all men were strangers; then he knew
Why she must be an alien—even she!
Since there was nought her human love could do
To give him the last access to her soul.
Returning came his years as wholly vain—
Repeated payment of inutile toll
To reach a shrine he would not seek again.
Just as all men were strangers; then he knew
Why she must be an alien—even she!
Since there was nought her human love could do
To give him the last access to her soul.
Returning came his years as wholly vain—
Repeated payment of inutile toll
To reach a shrine he would not seek again.
It scarcely left him sad to find how wrong
Had been his vision of won womanhood—
This yearning ache that he had held so long
For a full mingling of their separate blood.
Freed, solitary now, with unscared eyes
He gazed anew at life safe from surprise!
Had been his vision of won womanhood—
This yearning ache that he had held so long
For a full mingling of their separate blood.
Freed, solitary now, with unscared eyes
He gazed anew at life safe from surprise!
PORTRAIT OF MICHAEL PETER
To
Fania Marinoff
Fania Marinoff
BIRTHDAY PIECE NO. 2
There is what is and what there is is fair,
But most is yet to come to what is here;
Here is the most to come from out a year,
For from the year there comes all there is there.
Song for the minnow and a crystal pool,
And all is said of all there was to say,
Yet all must say the all, since every day
A nuptial kiss the wise man gives a fool.
But most is yet to come to what is here;
Here is the most to come from out a year,
For from the year there comes all there is there.
Song for the minnow and a crystal pool,
And all is said of all there was to say,
Yet all must say the all, since every day
A nuptial kiss the wise man gives a fool.
An ear of corn from the blind red