 | The poetical works (1829) |  |
SONNET.
[What though no sculptured monument proclaim]
What though no sculptured monument proclaimThy fate—yet, Albert, in my breast I bear
Inshrined the sad remembrance: yet thy name
Will fill my throbbing bosom. When Despair,
The child of murdered Hope, fed on thy heart,
Loved honoured friend, I saw thee sink forlorn,
Pierced to the soul by cold Neglect's keen dart,
And Penury's hard ills, and pitying Scorn,
And the dark spectre of departed Joy,
Inhuman Memory. Often on thy grave
Love I the solitary hour to employ,
Thinking on other days; and heave the sigh
Responsive, when I mark the high grass wave,
Sad sounding as the cold breeze rustles by.
| The poetical works (1829) | |