 | Poetical remains (1872) |  |
74
Sonnet.
WRITTEN AT MR. THISTLETHWAITE'S.
1779.
Oh! sprung of virtuous and of gentle race!
Sweet buds of infancy, whose secret roots
Together spread their intermingled shoots,
Tho' now ye branch dissever'd from th'embrace.
As now the bloom unfolding on the face
With glad presage my friendly muse salutes;
So may your minds too blossom: may the fruits
Of Wise and Good your riper season grace.
Oh brothers! whom, as yet unborn, ye lay,
Nature united! may no treacherous wiles
Of foes divide you, no domestic strife.
Strive only which shall best with love repay
Her love, who fondly gazing on your smiles
Forgets in joy the pangs that gave you life.
| Poetical remains (1872) | |