Ella Wheeler Wilcox (Элла Уилкокс)

Sonnets of Sorrow. 11. What boundless wealth of love!

"What boundless wealth of love!" The sentence stays
And lends wan lustre to each leaded hour.
I am as one who in bleak autumn days
Recalls the beauty of his rose-wreathed bower.
I am as one who in the desert sands
Must slake his thirst on thoughts of running streams.
Or mid the ruins of his palace stands
And reconstructs it with the stuff of dreams.

That boundless wealth of ours! My own, my own,
It could not vanish into nothingness.
God must have made a strong-box of His throne,
And store it there, our future lives to bless.
Oh, my first words, when death has set me free,
Will be this cry, "The key, dear God, the key!"

1. The Call (All wantonly in hours of joy)
2. Behold the Earth
3. The Birth of the Orchid
4. The Black Charger
5. In England

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1293

Последние стихотворения

To English version