Sonnet XXVI
Oh, if the heavy last unuttered groan
That lieth here could issue to the air,
Then might God’s peace descend on my despair
And seal this heart as with a mighty stone.
For what sin, Heaven, must I thus atone?
Was it a sin to love what seemed so fair?
If thou deny me hope, why give me care?
I have not lived, and die alone, alone.
This is not new. Many have perished so.
Long years of nothing, with some days of grief,
Made their sad life. Their own hand sought relief
Too late to find it, impotently slow.
I know, strong Fate, the trodden way I go.
Joy lies behind me. Be the journey brief.
Autres oeuvres par George Santayana...
