ii
UNLIKE are we unlike O princely Heart!
Unlike our uses and our destinies.
Our ministering two angels look surprise
On one another as they strike athwart
Their wings in passing. Thou bethink thee art 5
A guest for queens to social pageantries
With gages from a hundred brighter eyes
Than tears even can make mine to play thy part
Of chief musician. What hast thou to do
With looking from the lattice-lights at me— 10
A poor tired wandering singer singing through
The dark and leaning up a cypress tree?
The chrism is on thine head—on mine the dew—
And Death must dig the level where these agree.
Sonnets from the Portuguese
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