Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867.
IV. DesolationHenry Theodore Tuckerman (18131871)
T
By solemn vows to convent-walls confined?
Ah! no; with men may dwell the cloistered heart,
And in a crowd the isolated mind:
Tearless behind the prison-bars of fate,
The world sees not how desolate they stand,
Gazing so fondly through the iron grate
Upon the promised yet forbidden land;
Patience, the shrine to which their bleeding feet
Day after day in voiceless penance turn;
Silence, the holy cell and calm retreat,
In which unseen their meek devotions burn:
Life is to them a vigil, which none share,
Their hopes a sacrifice, their love a prayer.