Explore "Sonnets" by Helen Hay Whitney on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I can believe that my Beloved dies, / That all her virtue, all her youth shall fail, / And life, her rosy life, grow cold and pale, / To bloom again in braver Paradise.
I must believe that death shall close her eyes, / And hold her heart beyond a heavy veil, / Where silences surround her spirit frail / And waste the form where all my loving lies.