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