114
SONNET.WRITTEN AFTER PASSING A DAY WITH A BELOVED FRIEND, AFTER A VERY LONG SEPARATION.
There are some days which do comprise the pow'r of years,
And this was one of them—we had not met
For a long season, and the pent up tears,
Garner d in memory's store-house of regret,
Flow'd fast—for she, alas! had seen
Full many a day of sorrow, and had been'
Toss'd on the boist'rous sea of worldly care,
And I had bow'd my head in dark despair
Since last we parted—but when each was prest
Unto the other's fond and faithful breast,
And this was one of them—we had not met
For a long season, and the pent up tears,
Garner d in memory's store-house of regret,
Flow'd fast—for she, alas! had seen
Full many a day of sorrow, and had been'
Toss'd on the boist'rous sea of worldly care,
And I had bow'd my head in dark despair
Since last we parted—but when each was prest
Unto the other's fond and faithful breast,
