Poems, partly of rural life, (in national English.) By William Barnes |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
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| XVI. |
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| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. | SONNET XXVI. THE FUTURE. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
 | Poems, partly of rural life, (in national English.) |  |
119
SONNET XXVI. THE FUTURE.
Ye years unknown, what sorrow and delight
For mortals yet unborn have ye in store!
Behold! I think upon the past no more,
But give my thoughts to you by day and night.
For you I toil, forgetful of the flight
Of rapid years that I am wafted o'er,
Expecting happiness, unknown before,
In future days of glory calm and bright.
For mortals yet unborn have ye in store!
Behold! I think upon the past no more,
But give my thoughts to you by day and night.
For you I toil, forgetful of the flight
Of rapid years that I am wafted o'er,
Expecting happiness, unknown before,
In future days of glory calm and bright.
But who can tell how far I have to go
On life's untiring path? or knows the things
Ye yet may bring to agitate my breast?
On life's untiring path? or knows the things
Ye yet may bring to agitate my breast?
O come propitiously: for in my woe
How often do I wish that I had wings
That I might flee away and be at rest.
How often do I wish that I had wings
That I might flee away and be at rest.
| Poems, partly of rural life, (in national English.) | |