Great Michelangelo, with age grown bleak <br />And uttermost labours, having once o'ersaid <br />All grievous memories on his long life shed, <br />This worst regret to one true heart could speak:— <br />That when, with sorrowing love and reverence meek, <br />He stooped o'er sweet Colonna's dying bed, <br />His Muse and dominant Lady, spirit-wed,— <br />Her hand he kissed, but not her brow or cheek. <br />O Buonarruoti,—good at Art's fire-wheels <br />To urge her chariot!—even thus the Soul, <br />Touching at length some sorely-chastened goal, <br />Earns oftenest but a little: her appeals <br />Were deep and mute,—lowly her claim. Let be: <br />What holds for her Death's garner? And for thee?<br /><br />Dante Gabriel Rossetti<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xciv-michelangelo-s-kiss/
