University of Virginia Library


38

SONNET ON CUTTING DOWN AN OLD ARBOUR.

With desolating stroke the woodman's blade
Hath hewn thy bough-wove arches to the ground:
No more within the chequers of thy shade
The warblings of the nestled thrush resound.
No more from sultry noon shall here retire
Friendship and home-nurs'd Love, in union sweet,
To Summer's change for Winter's social fire,
The quiet converse of thy hush'd retreat.—
Thy joys are strewn like scatter'd leaves; away
They're swept from light and memory; and they,
Who o'er thy fate in sad repining stand,
As those who erst enjoy'd thy shade,—shall all
Like thy torn shatter'd branches with'ring fall
Beneath the scythe of Time's unsparing hand.