Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SONNET: 2, 27, by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN



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SONNET: 2, 27, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: But the heart murmurs at so harsh a tone
Last Line: Gold grit and grail, washed from the sands of time.


But the heart murmurs at so harsh a tone.
So sunk in tears it lies, so gone in grief,
With its own blood 'twould venture, far more lief,
Than underprize one drop of sorrow's own
Or grudge one hour of mournful idleness.
To idle time indeed--to moan our moan
And then go shivering from a folded gate,
Broken in heart and life, exheredate
Of all we loved: yet some, from dire distress,
Accounting tears no loss and grief no crime,
Have gleaned up gold and made their walk sublime.
So he, poor wanderer in steps like theirs,
May find his griefs, though it must be with tears,
Gold grit and grail, washed from the sands of time.





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