In those still moments I have wish'd you joys
That well you know to honour:--"Life's very toys
With him," said I, "will take a pleasant charm;
It cannot be that ought will work him harm."
These thoughts now come o'er me with all their might:--
Again I shake your hand,--friend Charles, good night.
_September, 1816_.
SONNETS
I. TO MY BROTHER GEORGE.
Many the wonders I this day have seen:
The sun, when first he kist away the tears
That fill'd the eyes of morn;--the laurel'd peers
Who from the feathery gold of evening lean:--
The ocean with its vastness, its blue green,
Its ships, its rocks, its caves, its hopes, its fears,--
Its voice mysterious, which whoso hears
Must think on what will be, and what has been.
E'en now, dear George, while this for you I write,
Cynthia is from her silken curtains peeping
So scantly, that it seems her bridal night,
And she her half-discover'd revels keeping.
But what, without the social thought of thee,
Would be the wonders of the sky and sea?
II. TO * * * * * *
Had I a man's fair form, then might my sighs
Be echoed swiftly through that ivory shell,
Thine ear, and find thy gentle heart; so well
Would passion arm me for the enterprize:
But ah! I am no knight whose foeman dies;
No cuirass glistens on my bosom's swell;
I am no happy shepherd of the dell
Whose lips have trembled with a maiden's eyes;
Yet must I dote upon thee,--call thee sweet.
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