Sonnets written chiefly during a tour through Holland, Germany, Italy, Turkey, and Hungary. By Lady Emmeline Stuart Wortley |
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SONNET.
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85
SONNET.
[The Morning of my Joys is darkened o'er]
The Morning of my Joys is darkened o'er,And Sorrow sits, like to a gloomy cloud,
On every Height of Hope, which once raised proud
Its head of brightness o'er Life's rugged shore!
Shall these, her clouds, be cleared away no more?—
Must all my Soul beneath their weight be bowed?—
Vainly I grieve and mourn and cry aloud,
“Alas! could Life smile as it smiled before!”—
All, all seems different, since too changed art thou,
My Being's Being—and my Life of Life!—
Earth is a sunless desert for me now!—
I am unarmed to battle with its strife,
Death in my heart—and faintness on my brow—
Yet once my Soul was with Hope's Visions rife!
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