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<name>George <index>Santayana</index></name>

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<quote>These strewn thoughts, by the mountain pathway sprung</quote>

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<source>Found browsing <plug href="http://www.sonnets.org/santayan.htm">Sonnet Central's Santayana page</plug>.</source>

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<line>These strewn thoughts, by the mountain pathway <rhyme on="a">sprung</rhyme>,</line>

<line>I conned for comfort, till I ceased to <rhyme on="b">grieve</rhyme>,</line>

<line>And with these flowering thorns I dare to <rhyme on="b">weave</rhyme></line>

<line>The crown, great Mother, on thine altar <rhyme on="a">hung</rhyme>.</line>

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<line>Teach thou a larger speech to my loosed <rhyme on="a">tongue</rhyme>,</line>

<line>And to mine opened eyes thy secrets <rhyme on="c">give</rhyme>,</line>

<line>That in thy perfect love I learn to <rhyme on="c">live</rhyme>,</line>

<line>And in thine immortality be <rhyme on="a">young</rhyme>.</line>

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<line>The soul is not on earth an alien <rhyme on="d">thing</rhyme></line>

<line>That hath her life's rich sources <rhyme on="e">otherwhere</rhyme>;</line>

<line>She is a parcel of the sacred <rhyme on="e">air</rhyme>.</line>

<line>She takes her being from the breath of <rhyme on="d">Spring</rhyme>,</line>

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<line>The glance of Phoebus is her fount of <rhyme on="f">light</rhyme>,</line>

<line>And her long sleep a draught of primal <rhyme on="f">night</rhyme>.</line>

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