 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
294
AUTHORSHIP.
Ay; blest indeed above the mass of men,And rich in joys that reach the true sublime!
For that the frequent droppings of my pen
Have comforted the Good in every clime,
And help'd the Right,—(O solace beyond time!)
Therefore my soul is glad: judge me, my friends,
Is there not happier treasure in such joys
Than all the world can win from all its toys?
And as the poet's dynasty extends
To children's children, reigning in the mind,
Is he not crown'd a king among his kind?
Ah me! not so: this thought of pride destroys:
Give God the praise: His blessing sends this store
Of unseen friends by thousands evermore!
| Three Hundred Sonnets | |