SONNET XLIX.
FROM THE NOVEL OF CELESTINA.
SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN IN A CHURCH-YARD,
OVER THE GRAVE OF A YOUNG WOMAN OF NINETEEN.
O THOU! who sleep'st where hazle-bands entwine
The vernal grass, with paler violets drest;
I would, sweet maid! thy humble bed were mine,
And mine thy calm and enviable rest.
For never more by human ills opprest
Shall thy soft spirit fruitlessly repine:
Thou canst not now thy fondest hopes resign
Even in the hour that should have made thee blest.
Light lies the turf upon thy virgin breast;
And lingering here, to Love and Sorrow true,
The youth who once thy simple heart possest
Shall mingle tears with April's early dew;
While still for him shall faithful Memory save
Thy form and virtues from the silent grave.
