Sonnet

Most wonderful and strange it seems, that I Who but a little time ago was tost High on the waves of passion and of pain, With aching heat and wildly throbbing brain, Who peered into the darkness, deeming vain All things there found if but One thing were lost, Thus calm and still and silent here should lie, Watching and waiting, --waiting passively.

The dark has faded, and before mine eyes Have long, grey flats expanded, dim and bare; And through the changing guises all things wear Inevitable Law I recognise: Yet in my heart a hint of feeling lies Which half a hope and half a despair.