210
Sonnet 43.
Na rtech těchto, srdce twého prahu.
Upon thy lips—thy swelling breast of snow,
Thy bright eyes, and thy building soul—I lay
My love's unshaken—its eternal vow—
Its oaths—its pledge—yes! Mina! hear me say:
"Time overrules the world—makes all its prey—
Time calls us where all time is buried now:
Yet I am thine for aye—record it so—
Thou glorious heaven—thou star-girt milky way!"
I bend me from the clouds—my name is fate;
On thee I look in pity—for tho' peace
Is in thy vow—yet war must be thy doom;
And I shall chase thee in thy restlessness—
Whither and when—I say not—soon or late—
Perchance a better—brighter day may come.