 | Poems |  |
SONNET IX.
In heaven “are many mansions”—what if thou,Hereafter cleansed from taint of mortal sin,
By paths untrod by me, shouldst chance to win
Some separate Paradise?—The hope which now
Soothes my bruised heart, and calms my sleepless brow,
Oh! must it perish?—when the stormy din
Of life is o'er, shall we not meet within
The halls of heaven, as once my soul did vow?
Oh! not for centuries of happy years,
Would I endure that thought!—'twere hell to know,
Beloved Friend, that all our hopes and fears,
Yearnings, and dreams of future joy and woe,
Hung upon different creeds!—With fervent tears,
I'll kneel, and pray that it may not be so!
| Poems | |