MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS, 1842
II
MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS, 1842
THE most alluring clouds that mount the sky Owe to a troubled element their forms, Their hues to sunset. If with raptured eye We watch their splendour, shall we covet storms, And wish the Lord of day his slow decline Would hasten, that such pomp may float on high? Behold, already they forget to shine, Dissolve–and leave, to him who gazed, a sigh. Not loth to thank each moment for its boon Of pure delight, come whencesoe’er it may, 10 Peace let us seek,–to stedfast things attune Calm expectations–leaving to the gay And volatile their love of transient bowers, The house that cannot pass away be ours.