 | A New Year's Eve, and Other Poems |  |
79
SONNET.
I wish, my friend, that I could fancy thisThe brightest age the world has ever known;
Alas! too much to selfish splendour prone,
Joy's smile seems faint; and heartless Pleasure's kiss
Contrasted with the quiet, sober bliss
That English hearts were wont to call their own;
Nor can its tinsel gaieties atone
For all the sterling worth that now we miss.
I rather deem it one of proud pretence,
Of splendid means to gain a sordid end:
Nor can I but be sick at heart, dear friend,
To see, while Nature woos our every sense,
How few there are who own her influence,
And in their hearts her simple charms commend.
| A New Year's Eve, and Other Poems | |