large/10730/children_of_the_night_1604_librivox_64kb_mp3/childrenofthenight_45_robinson_64kb_3
large/10730/children_of_the_night_1604_librivox_64kb_mp3/childrenofthenight_45_robinson_64kb
English
10730
The sonnet is a crown, whereof the rhymes Are for Thought's purest gold the jewel stones; But shapes and echoes that are never done Will haunt the workshop, as regret sometimes Will bring with human yearning to sad thrones The crash of battles that are never won. THE SUN IS A CROWN WHEREOF THE RHYMES ARE THE THOUGHT'S PUREST GOLD THE JEWEL STONES BUT SHAPES AND ECHOES ARE NEVER DONE WILL HAUNT A WORKSHOP AS A REGRET SOMETIMES WILL BRING THE HUMAN YEARING TO SAD THRONES THE CRASH OF BATTLES THAT ARE NEVER WON
 of the years, I feel the coming glory of the Light! On the Night of a Friend's Wedding If ever I am old, and all alone, I shall have killed one grief, at any rate; For then, thank God, I shall not have to wait Much longer for the sheaves that I have sown. The devil only knows what I have done, But here I am, and here are six or eight Good friends, who most ingenuously prate About my songs to such and such a one. But everything is all askew to-night, -- As if the time were come, or almost come, For their untenanted mirage of me To lose itself and crumble out of sight, Like a tall ship that floats above the foam A little while, and then breaks utterly. Sonnet The master and the slave go hand in hand, Though touch be lost. The poet is a slave, And there be kings do sorrowfully crave The joyance that a scullion may command. But, ah, the sonnet-slave must understand The mission of his bondage, or the grave May clasp his bones, or ever he shall save The perfect word that is the poet's wand!  SONNET BY EDWIN ALLINGTON ROBINSON READ FOR LIVERBOX DOT ORG BY JAMES LEPPINE SONNET THE MASTER AND THE SLAVE GO HAND IN HAND THOUGH TOUCH BE LOST THE POET IS A SLAVE AND THERE BE KINGS DO SORROWFULLY CRAVE THE JOYANCE THAT A SCULLION MAY COMMAND BUT AH THE SONNET SLAVE MUST UNDERSTAND THE MISSION OF HIS BONDAGE OR THE GRAVE MAY CLASP HIS BONES OR EVER HE SHALL SAVE THE PERFECT WORD THAT IS THE POET'S WAND
large/10730/children_of_the_night_1604_librivox_64kb_mp3/childrenofthenight_45_robinson_64kb
file
download/librilight/large/10730/children_of_the_night_1604_librivox_64kb_mp3/childrenofthenight_45_robinson_64kb.flac