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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XXXIII
Work rating: Low

So I, I am ashamed of my old life,
 Here in this saintly presence of days gone,
 Ashamed of my weak heart`s unmeaning strife,
 Its loves, its lusts, its battles lost and won,
 And its long search of pleasure `neath the sun,
 And its scant courage to endure the knife,
 And its vain longing for good deeds undone,
 Ending in bitter words with railing rife.
 I am unworthy, yet am comforted,
 As one who driving o`er long trackless roads
 Of brake and rock and briar with footsore steed
 And springless chariot, searching for vain gods,
 Finds the high--road before him, where at ease
 The old world plods the rut of centuries.
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