University of Virginia Library

Sonnets.

SONNET III. To NOVEMBER.

Dismal November! me it soothes to view
At parting day, the scanty foliage fall
From the wet fruit tree; or the grey stone wall
Whose cold films glisten with unwholesome dew;
To watch the sweepy mists from the dank earth
Enfold the neighbouring copse; while, as they pass,
The silent rain-drop bends the long rank grass,
Which wraps some blossom's unmatured birth.
And thro' my Cot's lone lattice glimmering grey
Thy damp chill evenings have a charm for me,
Dismal November! for strange vacancy
Summoneth then my very heart away!
'Till from mist-hidden spire comes the slow knell
And says, that in the still air Death doth dwell!

SONNET IV. To a FRIEND.

Oft when I sit me down musing on those
Whom I should love in a low cot to greet;
Whose quiet spirits make retirement sweet,
And simple souls: Fancy, my Thomas! goes
To thee most cheerily; for kindliness,
Yea, all that my heart seeks for, when I bend
O'er the warm hearth imagining a Friend,
Endear Thee to me! Yet Thou wilt not bless
The healthsome board of meek equality!
Still when my heart is fullest, and I brood
On the tear-mingled smiles of sympathy,
Thy name with feelings not to be withstood
Shall tremble on my tongue; and I will send
Many kind wishes to my purest friend!

SONNET V.

[I had been sad, and droop'd like one forlorn]

I had been sad, and droop'd like one forlorn,
When, as it might befall, I threw mine eye
Athwart the sunny plain; a breeze past by
Pure and inspiriting, as newly born,
The viewless messenger of some far glen!
It breath'd methought faint tones of distant peace!
Sighing I turn'd me from the haunts of men,
And bodied forth some dell, where care might cease
I gaz'd (a lone tear stealing down my cheek)
And wish'd that I knew One whom I could throw
Mine arms around, and snatching Her from woe
Yield Her my heart; and in some simple cell
Where I might win the solace of the meek,
Pray for the hard world where I once did dwell!

SONNET VI.

[When witching evening wove her shadows dim]

When witching evening wove her shadows dim,
Those big-swoln broodings oft I sought to wake
Which made my lone-heart fancifully ache;
And wayward tears unnotic'd still would swim
Filling each “idle orb!” And I have lov'd
This mystic transport; me the wildering hour
Sooth'd; and dim-vested Silence seem'd to pour
Balm, such as might befit a wretch that rov'd
Sicklied with thought. Nor was not this my lot!
Now was I maz'd with strange perplexities,
And now to my tranc'd spright such dreams would rise
That when I wak'd, I wept “to find them not!”
Wept that stern Reason chaced with blasting eye
The feverish mind's fantastic imagery!

SONNET VII.

['Twere well methinks in an indignant mood]

'Twere well methinks in an indignant mood,
When the heart droops unfriended, when mankind
With their cold smiles have dup'd thy honest mind,
On the wet heath to stray, while dimly brood
The gather'd grey-mists on the distant hill:
Drear should the prospect be, dreary and wide,
No second living one be there espied,
None save thyself; then would thy soul be still,
Curbing its sorrows with a proud despair!
Then would'st thou tread thy path with firmer pace,
Nor let one scowl on thy resolved face
Blab to the elements thy puny care,
But sooth'd to think, that solitude can bless,
Muse on the world with lofty quietness.