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SONNET
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


213

SONNET

TO THE SAME.

I looked on thee, dear Edward, as a friend
Before I knew thee; for, long ere we met
I heard thy praise from one not wont to let
His judgment lightly censure or commend.
What marvel, then, some pensive thoughts should blend
With thy loved converse; or that fond regret,
To his lamented worth a sacred debt,
At times on brightest moment should attend?
Yet prize I not our social hours the less
Because this tempering cloud is o'er them spread;
Glimpses of glory through its veil are shed,
And gleams of beauty, which the heart may bless:
So pure and precious parted worth's impress!
So beautiful the memory of the dead!