Here you will find thePoemA New Pilgrimage: Sonnet IVof poet Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Behold the deed is done. Here endeth all That bound my grief to its ancestral ways. I have passed out, as from a funeral, From my dead home, and in the great world's gaze Henceforth I stand, a pilgrim of new days, On the high road of life. Where I was thrall, See, I am master, being passionless; And, having nothing now, am lord of all. How glorious is the world! Its infinite grace Surprises me--and not as erst with fear, But as one meets a woman face to face, Loved once and unforgotten and still dear In certain moods and seasons. So to me The fair world smiles to--day, yet leaves me free.
