Sonett-Forum

What Beatrice was, so much you are
To me now wandering with an exile's eyes
In regions whence no road to paradise
Mounts, and the solace glimmers of no star.
There stretch between us gulfs of many a war;
The ancient hills to sunder us arise.
And yet I crave, from Fate that all denies,
You near in dream, who are in truth so far. . . .
"Though all the powers that thwart your life and mine
Thereto consent, yet can I never be
Your Beatrice. I can never shine
Pale, starry in your heaven: nay, unto me
One lot alone my stormy Fates assign--
To leave you,--or to clasp you utterly!"