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FRANCIS KAZINCZI.
63
SONNET.
My little bark of life is gently speeding
Adown the stream 'midst rocks, and sands, and eddies,
And gathering storms, and dark'ning clouds―unheeding,
Its quiet course thro' waves and winds it steadies.
My love is with me—and my babes—whose kisses
Sweep sorrow's trace from off my brow as fast
As gathering there—and hung upon the mast
Are harp and myrtle flowers, that shed their blisses
On the sweet air. Is darkness on my path?
Then beams bright radiance from a star that hath
Its temple in the heaven. As firm as youth
I urge my onward way—there is no fear.
For honest spirits.—Even the fates revere
And recompense—love, minstrelsy, and truth.
