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Sungleams

Rondeaux and Sonnets. By the Rev. Richard Wilton
Wilton, Richard
  
[epigraph]
  
[dedication]

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RONDEAUX.
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SONNETS.
 I. 
I. FROSTED TREES.
 III. 
III. THE SWAN.
 IV. 
IV. YEWBERRIES ON THE SNOW.
 VI. 
VI. A LADY'S CHAMBER.
 VIII. 
VIII. DUNMORE WOODS.
 IX. 
IX. HOPE IS THE WINDOW.
 X. 
X. THE SEASIDE IN WINTER.
 XI. 
XI. THE SOOTHING OF NATURE.
 XII. 
XII. A PRAYER IN TIME OF TROUBLE.
 XIII. 
XIII. “SOMETHING FOR EVERY DAY.”
 XIV. 
XIV. THE MAGNET AND THE MOON.
 XV. 
XV. GLIMPSES.
 XVI. 
XVI. PRE-INTIMATIONS.
 XVII. 
XVII. THE REFLECTION IN THE LAKE.
 XVIII. 
XVIII. A THOUGHT IN A GREENHOUSE.
 XIX. 
XIX. THE FIRSTBORN.
 XX. 
XX. “A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM.”
 XXI. 
XXI. ON A DOVE WHICH FLEW AGAINST MY STUDY WINDOW.
 XXII. 
XXII. A CONFIRMATION.
 XXV. 
XXV. ON AN OLD UPRAISED SEA-BEACH IN DUNMORE PARK.
 XXVI. 
XXVI. ON VISITING ARRAN AND LOCHGOIL-HEAD.
 XXVII. 
XXVII. ON THE MOUNTAINS ROUND LOCH SHIEL,
 XXVIII. 
XXVIII. TO A FRIEND ABOUT TO RESIDE IN JERUSALEM.
 XXIX. 
XXIX. ON MY BLUE HARE,
 XXX. 
XXX. ON MY BLUE HARE BEGINNING TO TURN WHITE.
 XXXI. 
XXXI. A LESSON OF TRUST.
 XXXII. 
XXXII. SWEET THOUGHTS AND SAD THOUGHTS,
 XXXIII. 
XXXIII. ON THE DEATH OF “BLUEY,” MY HIGHLAND HARE.
 XXXIV. 
XXXIV. ST. JOHN AND THE PARTRIDGE.
 XXXV. 
XXXV. THE BLACK ROCK;
 XXXVII. 
XXXVII. ON A GLEN WITHOUT A NAME
 XXXVIII. 
XXXVIII. ORANSAY;
 XXXIX. 
XXXIX. A FAREWELL TO GLENCRIPISDALE.
 XL. 
XL. ULLESWATER UNDER A CLOUD.
 XLI. 
XLI. ON SEEING SOME BIRDS IN WINTER
 XLII. 
XLII. AFTER READING TENNYSON'S “IDYLLS OF THE KING.”
 XLIII. 
XLIII. ON A FERN-LEAF
 XLIV. 
XLIV. ON AN AVENUE AT GRASBY VICARAGE,
 XLV. 
XLV. IN MEMORY OF CHARLES TENNYSON-TURNER,
 XLVI. 
XLVI. LAST LOOKS,
 XLVII. 
XLVII. ON THE SWORD OF A FRENCH NAVAL OFFICER,
 XLVIII. 
XLVIII. ON THE PROPOSED RESTORATION OF LONDESBOROUGH CHURCH
 XLIX. 
XLIX. THE MIRROR OF THE WORD
 L. 
L. THE CHURCH REOPENING WEEK.
  
VALEDICTORY.

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83

XVI. PRE-INTIMATIONS.

Before its umbered foliage left the oak,
I saw a tuft of snowdrop-leaves appear,
A tiny phalanx with the frequent spear,
Which to its windy war too soon awoke.
Of comfort and of hope far off it spoke,
While Autumn lingered and the skies were clear;
And whispered sweetly of the vernal year,
Ere from their caves December tempests broke.
So sometimes when a wintry grief draws near
An unexpected light of hope is seen,
Kindly forerunning the experience drear:
A holy text puts forth a sudden green
To fortify us for the coming fear
And bid us look beyond to hours serene.
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