Luyện nghe bài hát Viii. Escalation - C - (sonnet Xxvii)

Weary toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs travel tired;
But begins a journey in my head,
To work my mind, when work's expired:
For then my thoughts, far where I abide,
a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping open wide,
Looking on darkness which the do see
Save my soul's imaginary sight
Presents thy to my sightless view,
Which, a jewel hung in ghastly night,
black night beauteous and her old face new.
Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by my mind,
For thee and for myself no find.