Sonnet Cclxxxv:
G
George Henry Boker
0
Altın Yaprak
How shall I sing of thee, thyself who art
A song of God's own making--perfect thought,
Pearl-pure, unmatched, which the great poet wrought
Into his epic, Nature yet apart?
For should I mimic what I know by heart,
Men would exclaim against me, as they ought,
For one who forged thy loveliness, and sought
To palm my counterfeit upon the mart.
Let me be silent; let thy beauty sing,
With the rapt look thy maker gave to thee,
His praise and thine in wordless harmony.
Thou poem compact, embodied, made a thing
Glorious as dawn, or sunset, or the ring
Of stars that circle o'er the tropic sea!
Kamu malı: şairin ölümünün üzerinden 70 yıldan fazla geçti.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş