University of Virginia Library


387

SONNET TO B. J. M. P.

A sad return, my Brother, thine must be
To thy void home! loosed is the silver cham,
The golden bowl is broken!—not again
Love's fond caress and Childhood's earnest glee
After dull toil may greet and gladden thee.
How shall we bid the mourner not complain.
Not murmur, not despond?—ah me, most vain
Is sympathy, how soft soe'er the key,
And argument, how grave soe'er the tone!
In our still chambers, on our bended knees.
Pray we for better help! There is but One
Who shall from sorrow, as from sin, release:
God send thee peace, my Brother! God alone
Guideth the fountains of eternal peace.
October 19, 1836.