But I would lay my hand upon
The trembling chords and riven;
I feel mine own are healing fast
Beneath the eye of Heaven.
THE EIGHTEENTH SONNET OF PETRARCA.
———
BY FAYETTE ROBINSON.
———
Had I but waited patient in the cell
But I would lay my hand upon
The trembling chords and riven;
I feel mine own are healing fast
Beneath the eye of Heaven.
———
BY FAYETTE ROBINSON.
———
Had I but waited patient in the cell