Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet Xxxiv - Poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
O fool! O false! I have abandoned Heaven,
And sold my wealth for metal of base kind.
O frail disciple of a fair creed given
For human hope when all the world was blind!
What was my profit? Freedom of the mind,
A little pleasure of the years, some scars
Of lusty youth, and some few thoughts enshrined
In worthier record of my manhood's years.
All else is loss, and unredeemed distress;
The voiceful seasons uninvited come,
And bring their tribute of new flowers, and pass:
Only the reason of the world is dumb;
Nor does God any more by word or sign
Speak to our rebel hearts of things divine.
Comments about A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet Xxxiv by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You