And all the white-stemmed pinewood slept above—
When in this valley first I told my love.
XXIX
Sonnet
[Published in Friendships Offering: a Literary Album for 1832. London: Smith and Elder.]
Me my own fate to lasting sorrow doometh:
Thy woes are birds of passage, transitory:
Thy spirit, circled with a living glory,
In summer still a summer joy resumeth.