 | The triumph of music |  |
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SONNET.
THIS blooming world is but a thorny bower;
Where treacherous sweets, and latent stings abound,
Where ills in ambush, every path surround;
Health, beauty, opulence, and mental power
Shrink, in an instant, like a shrivell'd flower.
How sinks the heart, in sorrow's gulph profound,
When hope's gay visions are in vapours drown'd,
And friendship fails us in the trying hour!
Where treacherous sweets, and latent stings abound,
Where ills in ambush, every path surround;
Health, beauty, opulence, and mental power
Shrink, in an instant, like a shrivell'd flower.
How sinks the heart, in sorrow's gulph profound,
When hope's gay visions are in vapours drown'd,
And friendship fails us in the trying hour!
Yet all the troubles, that on mortals wait,
Dark as they are, new scenes of light portend,
Teaching the soul to triumph over fate,
And rise, from deep depression more elate;
Our chasten'd thoughts, as they to Heaven ascend,
Find, but in God, the never-failing friend.
Dark as they are, new scenes of light portend,
Teaching the soul to triumph over fate,
And rise, from deep depression more elate;
Our chasten'd thoughts, as they to Heaven ascend,
Find, but in God, the never-failing friend.
Theodore.
| The triumph of music | |