The Web: Sonnet

by Franz Kappus

Through my life there trembles without plaint,
without a sigh a deep-dark melancholy.
The pure and snowy blossoming of my dreams
is the consecration of my stillest days.

But oftentimes the great question crosses
my path. I become small and go
coldly past as though along some lake
whose flood I have not hardihood to measure.

And then a sorrow sinks upon me, dusky
as the gray of lusterless summer nights
through which a star glimmers--now and then--:

My hands then gropingly reach out for love,
because I want so much to pray sounds
that my hot mouth cannot find...

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