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Sixty-Five Sonnets

With Prefatory Remarks on the Accordance of the Sonnet with the Powers of the English Language: Also, A Few Miscellaneous Poems [by Thomas Doubleday]

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 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
XV.
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 XXIX. 
 XXX. 
 XXXI. 
 XXXII. 
 XXXIII. 
 XXXIV. 
 XXXV. 
 XXXVI. 
 XXXVII. 
 XXXVIII. 
 XXXIX. 
 XL. 
 XLI. 
 XLII. 
 XLIII. 
 XLIV. 
 XLV. 
 XLVI. 
 XLVII. 
 XLVIII. 
 XLIX. 
 L. 
 LI. 
 LII. 
 LIII. 
 LIV. 
 LV. 
 LVI. 
 LVII. 
 LVIII. 
 LIX. 
 LX. 
 LXI. 
 LXII. 
 LXIII. 
 LXIV. 
 LXV. 
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41

XV.

Deplore ye not his fate, though he hath dealt
In woe, and often shed the bitter rain;
He is not luckless though he may complain,
And long with ill and poverty hath dwelt;
The poet who would make another melt
Himself must know well the dissolving vein,
And pathos must be purchased still with pain;
For he can ne'er describe who hath not felt.
Misfortune's torrent, which no courage stems;
Despair's stagnation, and distraction's whirl;
Insults that fire, humilities that freeze;
Are genius' elements;—her purest gems
By such extremes are nurtured, as the pearl
Itself is but the creature of disease.