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

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