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Poem	SONNET VII. Occhi miei, oscurato è 'l nostro sole. HE ENDEAVOURS TO FIND PEACE IN THE THOUGHT THAT SHE IS IN HEAVEN. Mine eyes! our glorious sun is veil'd in night,Or set to us, to rise 'mid realms of love;There we may hail it still, and haply proveIt mourn'd that we delay'd our heavenward flight.Mine ears! the music of her tones delightThose, who its harmony can best approve;My feet! who in her track so joy'd to move.Ye cannot penetrate her regions bright!But wherefore should your wrath on me descend?No spell of mine hath hush'd for ye the joyOf seeing, hearing, feeling, she was near:Go, war with Death—yet, rather let us bendTo Him who can create—who can destroy—And bids the ready smile succeed the tear. Wollaston. O my sad eyes! our sun is overcast,—Nay, rather borne to heaven, and there is shining,Waiting our coming, and perchance repiningAt our delay; there shall we meet at last:And there, mine ears, her angel words float past,Those who best understand their sweet divining;Howe'er, my feet, unto the search inclining,Ye cannot reach her in those regions vast.Why, then, do ye torment me thus, for, oh!It is no fault of mine, that ye no more[Pg 242]Behold, and hear, and welcome her below;Blame Death,—or rather praise Him and adore,Who binds and frees, restrains and letteth go,And to the weeping one can joy restore. Wrottesley.
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