Sonnet VII – Hartley Coleridge

Sonnet VII
Is love a fancy, or a feeling?
No. It is immortal as immaculate Truth,
‘Tis not a blossom shed as soon as youth,
Drops from the stem of life–for it will grow,
In barren regions, where no waters flow,
Nor rays of promise cheats the pensive gloom.
A darkling fire, faint hovering o’er a tomb,
That but itself and darkness nought doth show,
It is my love’s being yet it cannot die,
Nor will it change, though all be changed beside;
Though fairest beauty be no longer fair,
Though vows be false, and faith itself deny,
Though sharp enjoyment be a suicide,
And hope a spectre in a ruin bare.
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About Drneevil

Blogger, podcaster, reader, knitter. Founder of Leeds Book Club; host of Culturally Fixated; co-host of Conversations with Geek People; tech support for Leeds Browncoats.

Posted on March 4, 2010, in All Posts, Avid Reader, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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