146
ROMNEY'S REMORSE
The colour’d bubble bursts above the abyss
Of Darkness, utter Lethe.
Of Darkness, utter Lethe.
Is it so?
Her sad eyes plead for my own fame with me
To make it dearer.
Her sad eyes plead for my own fame with me
To make it dearer.
Look, the sun has risen
To flame along another dreary day.
Your hand. How bright you keep your marriage-ring!
Raise me. I thank you.
To flame along another dreary day.
Your hand. How bright you keep your marriage-ring!
Raise me. I thank you.
Has your opiate then
Bred this black mood? or am I conscious, more
Than other Masters, of the chasm between
Work and Ideal? Or does the gloom of Age
And suffering cloud the height I stand upon
Bred this black mood? or am I conscious, more
Than other Masters, of the chasm between
Work and Ideal? Or does the gloom of Age
And suffering cloud the height I stand upon
