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Classic and Contemporary Poetry


SONNET: 2, 12 by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN

First Line: HOW MOST UNWORTHY, ECHOING IN MINE EARS
Last Line: AND PORE UPON MY VERSE, AND COURT MY GRIEF,--

How most unworthy, echoing in mine ears,
The verse sounds on: life, love, experience, art
Fused into grief and, like a grief-filled heart
Where all emotion tends and turns to tears,
Broken by its own strength of passion and need;
Unworthy, though the bitter waters start
In these dim eyes, reviewing thought and word:
The high desire, the faint accomplished deed,
Unuttered love and loss, and feverish
Beatings against a gate forever barred.
Yet over and again I range and read
The blotted page, returning leaf and leaf,
And half-believe the words are what I wish,
And pore upon my verse, and court my grief,--



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