 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
297
A PORTRAIT.
A mindful man, but hearted like a child,Lived near my dwelling: he was frank and glad,
(Tho' some deep sorrows might have made him sad,)
But, to say sooth, his cheerfulness beguil'd
The way of life so well, that trouble's power
Was half unheeded, like a passing shower,
For he did good, with all the good he had:
Still as he went he sang, hoping the best,
And restless energy claim'd every hour,
And with a buoyant spirit he was blest:
And Independence, and outspoken Truth,
And courage, ev'n alone to stand and fight,
Had lived and moved in him from earliest youth,
With purity, and zeal, and love of light.
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