29
SONNET.
TO THE SWEET BRIAR.
O sweetest, purest fragrance!of what hours
Dost thou remind me, like thyself,all sweet;
When eyes beloved I fondly joyed to meet,
That beamed their welcome amid * * 's bowers.
The dark green shades, the blossoming banks were there,
And ah! a form revered beneath them moved,
Whose every look, whose lightest word I loved
Even then—undimmed by age, unpaled by care.
Ah! how much dearer when the dark storm rose,
That to that heart its ruthless arrow sent;
How touching was thy trustful, hushed lament,
The blissful love that triumphed o'er thy woes.
When nature's blessed face was closed to thee,
Thine own still shone in meek serenity!
Dost thou remind me, like thyself,all sweet;
When eyes beloved I fondly joyed to meet,
That beamed their welcome amid * * 's bowers.
The dark green shades, the blossoming banks were there,
And ah! a form revered beneath them moved,
Whose every look, whose lightest word I loved
Even then—undimmed by age, unpaled by care.
Ah! how much dearer when the dark storm rose,
That to that heart its ruthless arrow sent;
How touching was thy trustful, hushed lament,
The blissful love that triumphed o'er thy woes.
When nature's blessed face was closed to thee,
Thine own still shone in meek serenity!
