The Triumph of Man


I plod and peer amid mean sounds and shapes,
I hunt for dusty gain and dreary praise,
And slowly pass the dismal grinning days,
Monkeying each other like a line of apes.

What care? There was one hour amid all these
When I had stripped off like a tawdry glove
My starriest hopes and wants, for very love
Of time and desolate eternities.

Yea, for one great hour's triumph, not in me
Nor any hope of mine did I rejoice,
But in a meadow game of girls and boys
Some sunset in the centuries to be.



Attention Bookworms:

Buying from Amazon.com? Check out the Amazon Coupons first so you get the best deal.

Shakespeare wrote over 150 sonnets!
Join our Sonnet-A-Day Newsletter and read them all, one at a time.
Email:
As Seen In: USA Today "Hot Sites"