SONNET
TO AN OCTOGENARIAN
SONNET
AFFECTIONS lose their object; Time brings forth No successors; and, lodged in memory, If love exist no longer, it must die,– Wanting accustomed food, must pass from earth, Or never hope to reach a second birth. This sad belief, the happiest that is left To thousands, share not Thou; howe’er bereft, Scorned, or neglected, fear not such a dearth. Though poor and destitute of friends thou art, Perhaps the sole survivor of thy race, 10 One to whom Heaven assigns that mournful part The utmost solitude of age to face, Still shall be left some corner of the heart Where Love for living Thing can find a place. 1846.