Sonnet Xxxix:
G
George Henry Boker
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Sometimes when loitering by the bitter shore
Where brood the shadows of the things to be,
The vast, dim circle of eternity
Falls round my soul and clasps me more and more.
The world and its illusions sink before
That dreadful vision; and I almost see,
Beyond death's secret to the destiny
That disembodied spirits have in store.
What mortal's soul could stray from life so far,
And back return with an unaltered brain,
And shake its sorrow from its wings like rain;
Were not thy face its lure and guiding star,
The central point round which its motions are,
Its rest of comfort, when all else is vain?
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