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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II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXIX. |
XXX. |
XXXI. |
XXXII. |
XXXIII. | 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. |
Sixty-Five Sonnets | ||
59
XXXIII.
Days of my childhood, when, where wild flow'rs grew,From morn I've stray'd till twilight gloom'd again,
When I recall my long since pleasures, then
So sweet, so pure, so simple, and so true,
Mine eyes grow misty with regretful dew,
To think that like a dream they're gone;—I yearn
And sigh for bliss that never can return,—
So lov'd when lost—and so unprized when new!
And well may I weep o'er the joys that smiled
Long past—well linger 'mid the times that were,
I who retain the weakness of the child
Without the simpleness;—my moments are
As wayward, and as wasteful, and as wild,
—But oh! not innocent, nor void of care.
Sixty-Five Sonnets | ||