Sonett-Forum

Strange! to remember that I late was fain
To yield death back my poor undated lease,
So wearied had I at life's gate in vain
Asked wonders, and been doled not even peace.
I had grown sceptic of the exalted will
That wins not ever nearer to its aim.
Grey seemed all lures, all calling voices still;
Rest only seemed salvation . . . Then you came
And filled my dusk with stars. I understood
At last what coward languor had been mine.
And as your sweetness stung my brain and blood
Like the wild rapture of some wingèd wine
I stormed the gates that crusts to beggars give!
Life decks its halls for him who dares to live. . . .