Sonett-Forum

Is love a fancy, or a feeling? No,
It is immortal as immaculate Truth.
‘Tit not a blossom, shed as soon as youth
Drops from the stem of life – for it will grow

It barren regions, where no waters flow,
Nor ray of promise cheats the pensive gloom.
A darkling fire, faint hovering o’er a tomb,
That but itself and darkness nought doth show,

Is my love’s being, - yet it cannot die,
Nor will it change, though all the changed beside;
Though fairest beauty be no longer fair,

Though vows be false, and faith itself deny,
Though sharp enjoyment be a suicide,
And hope a spectre in a ruin bare.