The triumph of the Orwell with a dedicatory sonnet, and prefaratory stanzas [by Bernard Barton] |
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DEDICATORY SONNET,
TO
L****** J***** |
 | The triumph of the Orwell |  |
5
DEDICATORY SONNET, TO L****** J*****
SO swiftly, silently, have stolen alongThe steps of Time, that years have passed away
Since I was wont on Orwell's banks to stray,
And find a home amid her busy throng
How shall I then, my lovely friend, among
Her Fair, discover one to whom I may
Inscribe this tribute to her festive day,
Unless to Thee I dedicate the Song?
Then, be it thine!—thy love of Poesy,
Influence of local ties,—have made it so:
And if another reason I must show,
I have a foolish one, yet dear to me;
For the initials to these lines prefix'd,
With Memory's brightest, darkest dreams are mix'd.
| The triumph of the Orwell | |