264
SONNET.
H! gently breathe upon my languid brow,Reviving breeze! the breath of early Spring;
Her coming gladness floats upon thy wing,
With sweet though distant fragrance; sweetest now,
When through this feeble frame, the genial glow
Of health returning seems new life to shed,
And wake in every pulse the happier flow
Of early years, and days for ever fled.
Oh, voices of the past! ye lingering dwell
'Mid songs of birds, and scents of vernal flowers:
The sights, the sounds, I long have loved so well,
All waft me back to childhood's golden hours,—
Yet blend with grateful praise for peace and truth,
And holiest joys that now have crowned the hopes of youth.
E.
April 11, 1850.
