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xvii
DEDICATORY SONNET
TO SOPHIA.
Once we had joys in common:—common woesHave lately been our portion; Friend, once loved!
And, still as much loved as 'mid sorrow's throes
'Tis possible to move, or to be moved.
Faithless I'm not, because no word that glows,
No look that cheers, accost a friend approved;
Love's language lies in more profound repose
Than that of death, since Hope has been remov'd
From my soul's dreams! But could'st thou pierce my heart,
And see the tenderest thought it doth enshrine,
'Tis, should myself and sorrow ever part,
Mine eyes shall then tell thee when sought by thine,
While blest tears gush, like children's, without art,
“These had not flowed, wert thou again not mine.”
CHARLES LLOYD.
London, 6th September, 1819.
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