 | Sonnets by the Rev. Charles Turner [i.e. Charles Tennyson] |  |
65
RESUSCITATION OF FANCY.
The edge of thought was blunted by the stressOf the hard world; my fancy had wax'd dull,
All nature seemed less nobly beautiful,—
Robbed of her grandeur and her loveliness;
Methought the Muse within my heart had died,
Till, late, awaken'd at the break of day,
Just as the East took fire and doff'd its grey,
The rich preparatives of light I spied;
But one sole star—none other anywhere—
A wild-rose odour from the fields was borne;
The lark's mysterious joy fill'd earth and air,
And from the wind's top met the hunter's horn;
The aspen trembled wildly, and the morn
Breath'd up in rosy clouds, divinely fair!
| Sonnets by the Rev. Charles Turner [i.e. Charles Tennyson] | |