 | The Poetical Works of Caroline Bowles Southey |  |
SONNET.
[Traveller of Life! what plant of virtues rare]
Traveller of Life! what plant of virtues rareSeeketh thy curious eye? 'Mongst earth's excess,
Will none but the exotic, Happiness,
Content thine eager longing? Fruitless care!
It groweth not beneath our clouded skies.
But when amongst the groves of Paradise
The soft winds wanton, haply they may bear,
From thence to earth, some vagrant flower or leaf,
Some fluttering petal, exquisite as brief
Its odorous beauty!—Oh, if to thy share
It fall, one blossom on thy path to find—
Quick! snatch it to thine heart, ere the rough wind
Despoil its freshness. It will fade e'en there;
Thou canst not quite exclude this cold world's nipping air.
| The Poetical Works of Caroline Bowles Southey | |