A Sonnet is a moment's monument, — | a | ||||
Memorial from the Soul's eternity | b | ||||
To one dead deathless hour. Look that it be, | b | ||||
Whether for lustral rite or dire portent, | a | ||||
5 |
Of its own arduous fulness reverent: | a | |||
Carve it in ivory or in ebony, | b | ||||
As Day or Night may rule; and let Time see | b | ||||
Its flowering crest impearled and orient. | a | ||||
A Sonnet is a coin: its face reveals | c | ||||
10 |
The soul, — its converse, to what Power 'tis due: — | d | |||
Whether for tribute to the august appeals | c | ||||
Of Life, or dower in Love's high retinue, | d | ||||
It serve, or, 'mid the dark wharf's cavernous breath, | e | ||||
In Charon's palm it pay the toll to Death. | e | ||||
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