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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: XLIII
Work rating: Low

How shall I tell my fall? The life of man
 Is but a tale of tumbles, this way thrown
 At his beginning by mere haste of plan
 In the first gaping ditch with flowers o`ergrown;
 Anon more cautious for his wounded knees,
 Yet falling still through much expectancy;
 And so to age, the goal of his heart`s ease,
 Stumbling in blindness on he knows not why.
 How shall I tell it? As the poets tell
 Who wrap love in a garment of vain light?
 Or plainly naked, the poor child of Hell
 And laughter that it is and starless night?
 I like the truth best. Yet this love, sad thing,
 Mired and defiled, I saw it once a king.
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