Sixty-Five Sonnets With Prefatory Remarks on the Accordance of the Sonnet with the Powers of the English Language: Also, A Few Miscellaneous Poems [by Thomas Doubleday] |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
| LII. |
| LIII. |
| LIV. |
| LV. |
| LVI. |
| LVII. |
| LVIII. |
| LIX. |
| LX. |
| LXI. |
| LXII. |
| LXIII. |
| LXIV. |
| LXV. | LXV. |
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 | Sixty-Five Sonnets |  |
91
LXV.
Poppies, that scatter'd o'er this arid plain,Display the barrenness ye cannot cure,
Though little may your sickly flowers allure,
Their juice deserves because it aids the strain,
For not alone it lulls our harshest pain,
While, in the dang'rous or th' indulgent hour,
The Turk still seeks it, but its wond'rous pow'r
Can bring to bear the poet's barren brain;
And in blest service, like a Knight of old,
It conquers but the monsters of the mind:
Oh! poppy-flow'rs, as rude weeds round ye press,
E'en you look beauteous, 'mong their colours cold;
So, mid the prickly cares of life, we find
The sweetest hours—those of forgetfulness.
| Sixty-Five Sonnets | |