Sonnets and Fugitive Pieces :: :: University of Virginia Library

His was a chamber in the topmost tower,
A small unsightly cell with grated bars;
And wearily went on each irksome hour
Of dim Captivity and moody cares!
Against such visitants he was not strong,
But sate with laden heart and brow of woe,
And every morn he heard the stir and song
Of birds in royal gardens far below,
Telling of bowers and dewy lawns unseen,
Drench'd with the silver steam that night had left—
Part blossom-white, part exquisitely green,
And ringing all with thrushes on the left,
And finches on the right, to greet the sheen
Of the May-dawn; while he was thus bereft!