SONNET.
An Autumnal Midnight.
I walk in silence and the starry night;
And travellers with me are leaves alone.
Still onward fluttering, by light breezes blown.
The moon is yet in heaven, but soon her light,
Shed through the silvery clouds and on the dark
Must disappear. No sound I hear save trees
Swayed darkly, like the rush of far-off seas
That climb with murmurs loud the rocky steep.
There wakes no crowing cock, nor watch-dog’s bark.
I look around, as in a placid dream
Existing amidst beauty, and I seem
Relieved from human weakness, and from sleep,
A happy spirit ’neath the boundless heaven,
To whom not Day alone but Night is given!
W. M. W.
SEASONABLE STANZAS.
Winter, with hoary locks and frozen face,
Hath thrown his naked sceptre from his hand;
And he hath mended now his sluggish pace,
Beside the blazing yule-block fire to stand.
His ice-bound visage ’ginneth to expand;
And, for the naked pine-branch which he swayed.
He, smiling, hath a leaf-green sceptre planned;
The ivy and the holly he doth braid,
Beneath whose berries red is many a frolick played.
Now not in vain hath been the blooming spring,
The fruitful summer and the autumn sere;
For jolly Christmas to his board doth bring
The happy fulness of the passed year;
Man’s creeping blood and moody looks to cheer.
With mirthful revel rings each happy dome;
Unfelt within the snows and winds severe;
The tables groan with beef, the tankards foam,
And Winter blandly smiles to cheer the British home.
W. M. W.