 | Poems |  |
41
SONNET.
Youth, of the open brow and careless heart,That comest here to ask thy destiny,
Wouldst thou be happy? tarry as thou art;
But that the Fates and restless Hours deny.
Wouldst thou be wise? love Wisdom all the day,
Of all thy dreams let Wisdom mistress be:
Reck not what they who flaunt her smiles may say,
She leaves a thousand such to dwell with thee.
Wouldst thou be good? see thou love Goodness well,
Count never what she brings thee; dower and maid
May not be won together; you must sell,
And lose your jewel ere its price be paid.
So let the life that fires thy hopes be passed;
Then know how little it is worth at last.
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