University of Virginia Library


3

DEDICATORY SONNET. TO---

It may be that the rhymes I bring to thee
(An idle offering, Beauty,) are my last:
Therefore, albeit thine eye may never cast
Its light on them, 'tis fit thine image be
Allied unto my song; for silently
Thou may'st connect the present with the past.
'Tis fit, for Saturn now is hurrying fast,
And thou may'st soon be nothing, ev'n to me.
Be this the record then of pleasant hours
Departed, when beside the river shaded
I walk'd with thee, gazing my heart away,
And, from the sweetest of your garden flowers,
Stole only those which on your bosom faded.
O, why has happiness so short a day!