The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury | ||
132
SONNET.
Nay, spring is not now fair; I cannot nowGreet its glad wakening, though I oft have loved
To watch its coming when its breezes moved
Like music o'er my spirit, and my brow
Was bright with hope and health. The joyous glow
Of nature's new-born loveliness to me
Is fraught with pain; for ere the budding tree
Shall put forth all its beauty, ere the snow
Melts from the mountain summits, we must part,
Mine own dear friend! Thou o'er the trackless sea,
Borne by spring's earliest gales, wilt leave my heart
To mourn in loneliness, bereft of thee,
While to thy memory I shall only seem
The half-traced image of a pleasant dream.
The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury | ||