Sonnet Cix:

CIX More than mere instinct, straight against the scope Of reason's counsel is the desperate hold We lay on life, however dark and cold Its cheerless prospect to the eye of hope. One can but marvel at the slaves who grope Their way through life, with miseries untold Stinging them daily--wretches who might fold Their griefs in death beneath some grassy slope. Deep in the soul a latent trust must bide, To keep us clinging to life's worthless prize, While all its charms are shipwrecked at our side; A faith in something hidden from the eyes Of creeds and dogmas, as my love descries Light in itself, and makes that light its guide.