SONNETS,
ETC.
I.
When I sit down to contemplate my case,
And to review the stages of the way,
I find from where my steps went first astray,
They might have lost me in a darker maze:
But when these memories pass, around I gaze,
And wonder whence could come a doom so dark;
I know I die, and suffer more to mark
My care conclude with my concluding race.
Yes, die I will, and so my spirit free
From her who well will know to' undo and slay me
If so she wishes,—such her wish will be,
For since my own will does to death betray me,
Hers, which is less my friend, must compass too
My death—if not, what is it she will do?