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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536338" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XXXIV</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536338" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">O fool! O false! I have abandoned Heaven,<br>And sold my wealth for metal of base kind.<br>O frail disciple of a fair creed given<br>For human hope when all the world was blind!<br>What was my profit? Freedom of the mind,<br>A little pleasure of the years, some scars<br>Of lusty youth, and some few thoughts enshrined<br>In worthier record of my manhood's years.<br>All else is loss, and unredeemed distress;<br>The voiceful seasons uninvited come,<br>And bring their tribute of new flowers, and pass:<br>Only the reason of the world is dumb;<br>Nor does God any more by word or sign<br>Speak to our rebel hearts of things divine.</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=Wilfrid+Scawen+Blunt">Wilfrid Scawen Blunt</a></strong></div>

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