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

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