 | Voices from the Lakes, and Other Poems |  |
295
SONNET. THE CURSE.
The Earth is tracked by curse. On every thing,The fairest e'en, it sadly lingereth;
We all have seen thy ravages, O Death,
We know thy fatal power, have mourned thy sting.
The very flowers die, which clustering spring
Around our feet in many a fragrant wreath;
They fade and wither, tainted with thy breath,
And pine beneath the shadows thou dost fling.
And if these radiant things which are so fair,
Woven from beams and showers, bloom but to die,
So with all valued things of bright and rare,
They pass just like the breathing of a sigh,
And this dark judgment tarries on earth's brow,
“The creature travails in its pain till now.”
| Voices from the Lakes, and Other Poems | |