To Vittoria Colonna. (Sonnet V.)

Lady, how can it chance--yet this we see
In long experience--that will longer last
A living image carved from quarries vast
Than its own maker, who dies presently?
Cause yieldeth to effect if this so be,
And even Nature is by Art at surpassed;
This know I, who to Art have given the past,
But see that Time is breaking faith with me.
Perhaps on both of us long life can I
Either in color or in stone bestow,
By now portraying each in look and mien;
So that a thousand years after we die,
How fair thou wast, and I how full of woe,
And wherefore I so loved thee, may be seen.

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Comments (10)

I tink dis poom is rubbis. to too rubbiss. I hate bery much
And look, has made a man of dust of a man of flesh. This sorcery I do. Being damned, I am amused to see the centre of love diffused and the wave of love travel into vacancy. How easy it is to make a ghost. -shows the terror of modern warfare which turns all emotion and humanity into nothingness.What a horrible thing this is! the comparison with sorcery and the example of ghost is also astounding.
Unusually good war poem- a genre I usually don't find very interesting. MM
Very interesting poem. And timely. How easy it is for war to create ghosts. Indeed.
The weightless mosquito touches! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
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