Verse > Anthologies > Hunt and Lee, eds. > The Book of the Sonnet
Hunt and Lee, comps.  The Book of the Sonnet.  1867.
II. “I shall be faithful, though the weary years”
By George Henry Boker (1823–1890)
I SHALL be faithful, though the weary years
  Spread out before me like a mountain chain
  Rugged and steep, ascending from the plain,
  Without a path; though where the cliff uprears
Its sternest front, and echoes in my ears        5
  My own deep sobs of solitary pain,
  It is my fate to scale; though all in vain
  I spend my labor, and my idle tears
Torture but me: I know, despite my ill,
  That with each step a little wastes away,—        10
  A little of this life wastes day by day;
And far beyond the desert which I fill
  With my vast sorrow, I have faith to say
  That we shall meet; so I press onward still.

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