Wilfrid Scawen Blunt (1840 - 1922 / England)
A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet II
How shall I ransom me? The world without,
Where once I lived in vain expense and noise,
Say, shall it welcome me in this last rout,
Back to its bosom of forgotten joys?
Sometimes I hear it whispering with strange voice,
Asking, ``Are we forever then cast out,
The things that helped thee once in thy annoys,
That thou despairest? Nay, away with doubt!
Take courage to thy heart to heal its woes.
It still shall beat as wildly as a boy's.''
This tempts me in the night--time, and I loose
My soul to dalliance with youth's broken toys.
Ay, wherefore suffer? In this question lies
More than my soul can answer, and be wise.
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- A Chaunt In Praise
- A Convent Wothout God
- A Cuckoo Song
- A Day In The Castle Of Envy
- A Digit Of The Moon
- A Dream
- A Dream Of Good
- A Glory Gone
- A Lesson In Humility
- A Love Secret
- A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet I
- A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet II
- A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet III
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