University of Virginia Library


178

SONNET.

TO A COTTAGE.

Well pleas'd I mark thy modest, straw-crown'd roof,
The luscious woodbine that o'ertwines its brow,
And yon thick rose-buds' crimsom-tinted glow—
And fancy whispers that, tho' far aloof
From all that madding crowds so fondly prize,
Within thy humble walls I'd joy to live
In deepest calm; for I could well despise
All but the bliss which tenderest love would give.
Vain dream!—that bliss, alas! is ever dead;
No more this fond heart feels its soothing powers,
With her, the angel-traitress, far it fled,
And melancholy marks my lonely hours—
Vain then the peaceful cot—fair nature's calm
On wounds like mine can pour no healing balm.