The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury | ||
130
SONNET.
Pass on, stern Time! I know thy shadowy wingIs bearing youth, and health, and hope away;
Then swiftly fleet, and bring th' appointed day
When this worn spirit may no longer cling
To earth-born vanities, but gladly fling
Its weight of clay aside. My wearied soul
Pines 'neath the fetters of the world's control,
Sick of the thousand petty cares that sting
The heart almost to madness. I have sought
My joy in dreams; alas! its end was pain,
And hope's unreal fancies and deep thoughts
Cherished in solitude have been my bane;
But now upon my lone couch I could lie,
Calm as a wayward, wearied child, and die!
The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury | ||