Behold the deed is done. Here endeth all
That bound my grief to its ancestral ways.
I have passed out, as from a funeral,
From my dead home, and in the great world's gaze
Henceforth I stand, a pilgrim of new days,
On the high road of life. Where I was thrall,
See, I am master, being passionless;
And, having nothing now, am lord of all.
How glorious is the world! Its infinite grace
Surprises me--and not as erst with fear,
But as one meets a woman face to face,
Loved once and unforgotten and still dear
In certain moods and seasons. So to me
The fair world smiles to--day, yet leaves me free.
A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet Iv
Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
(1)
Poem topics: fear, funeral, grief, home, life, woman, dear, great, infinite, master, stand, high, gaze, bound, Valentine's Day, face, world, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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