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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=360686" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sonnet LXII: The Soul's Sphere</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=360686" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Some prisoned moon in steep cloud-fastnesses,—<br>Throned queen and thralled; some dying sun whose pyre<br>Blazed with momentous memorable fire;—<br>Who hath not yearned and fed his heart with these?<br>Who, sleepless, hath not anguished to appease<br>Tragical shadow's realm of sound and sight<br>Conjectured in the lamentable night? . . .<br>Lo! the soul's sphere of infinite images!<br>What sense shall count them? Whether it forecast<br>The rose-winged hours that flutter in the van<br>Of Love's unquestioning unrevealèd span,—<br>Visions of golden futures: or that last<br>Wild pageant of the accumulated past<br>That clangs and flashes for a drowning man.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Dante+Gabriel+Rossetti">Dante Gabriel Rossetti</a></strong></div>

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