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A Sonnet is a moment's monument, Memorial from the Soul's eternity To one dead deathless hour. Look that it be, Whether for lustral rite or dire portent, Of its own arduous fulness reverent: Carve it in ivory or in ebony, As Day or Night may rule; and let Time see Its flowering crest impearl'd and orient.
A Sonnet is a coin: its face reveals The soul,--its converse, to what Power 'tis due: -- Whether for tribute to the august appeals Of Life, or dower in Love's high retinue, It serve; or, 'mid the dark wharf's cavernous breath, In Charon's palm it pay the toll to Death.
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Read poems about / on: sonnet, august, power, dark, death, house, night, time, life, flower
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