77
SONNET.OCCASIONED BY FINDING A BIRD'S NEST BLOWN DOWN BY THE HIGH WIND, APRIL 1829.
Alas, poor bird! and has the boist'rous wind
Destroy'd the object of thy anxious care,
And with rude blast, unpitying and unkind,
Scatter'd the fragments to the angry air;
And driven thee a houseless wanderer forth
To brave the inclement tempests of the north?
Poor little bird! like thee I built on high
A fairy structure, with bright hopes array'd;
Those hopes, alas! were quickly doom'd to die,
And the gay fabric in the dust was laid;
For o'er it blew the infuriate whirlwinds rude
Of cutting cold neglect, and base ingratitude.
Thus, hapless bird! while I thy fate bemoan,
I weep for woes, alas! too like my own.
Destroy'd the object of thy anxious care,
And with rude blast, unpitying and unkind,
Scatter'd the fragments to the angry air;
And driven thee a houseless wanderer forth
To brave the inclement tempests of the north?
Poor little bird! like thee I built on high
A fairy structure, with bright hopes array'd;
Those hopes, alas! were quickly doom'd to die,
And the gay fabric in the dust was laid;
For o'er it blew the infuriate whirlwinds rude
Of cutting cold neglect, and base ingratitude.
Thus, hapless bird! while I thy fate bemoan,
I weep for woes, alas! too like my own.
