Christopher Pearse Cranch
Sonnet Xxxvi. Life And Death. 8. - Poem by Christopher Pearse Cranch
NOT for a rapture unalloyed I ask.
Not for a recompense for all I miss.
A banquet of the gods in heavenly bliss,
A realm in whose warm sunshine I may bask,
Life without discipline or earnest task
Could ill repay the unfinished work of this.
Nay — e'en to clasp some long-lost Beatrice
In bowers of paradise — the mortal mask
Dropped from her face now glorified and bright.
But I would fain take up what here I left
All crude and incomplete; would toil and strive
To regain the power of which I am bereft
By slow decay and death, with fuller light
To aid the larger life that may survive.
Comments about Sonnet Xxxvi. Life And Death. 8. by Christopher Pearse Cranch
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.