Sonnet XXIV, "Expectation"

Sometimes it seems that the sum of our dreams
Can never compare to that which is there,
For though hope seems to beam, it is merely the gleam
Of a life merely fair, left without meaning's flair,
Since to reach to the goal, one endangers the soul,
And so driven insane, it returns to mundane.

Sometimes it seems that the sum of our dreams
Can never compare to that which is there.
And at once the mundane is discovered insane,
Truth releasing the soul forth to reach for its goal-
No, to try for love's flair, for it only is fair
That the hearts every gleam can, reflected, now beam.

Sometimes it seems the sum of our dreams
Can never compare to that which is there.