Poems (Hinxman)/Sonnet
For works with similar titles, see Sonnet.
SONNET.
I saw a wounded hart come down to drink;
In its fair throat a broken arrow stood;
Its chest and mottled thighs were stained with blood;
And oft it bent its head to reach the brink,
And oft drew back, checked by its painful wound,
Then sank with quivering limbs upon the ground:
Its dark eye glazed; while that untasted flood
To serve some brighter destiny was bound.
I, too, O hart! athirst and wounded, see
The stream of joy flow by in vain; but not
To perish hopeless on its bank like thee.
Thy fate hath brought to mind my happier lot;
The quickening waters I may meet once more,
Spread in a glassy sea,—Eternity their shore.
In its fair throat a broken arrow stood;
Its chest and mottled thighs were stained with blood;
And oft it bent its head to reach the brink,
And oft drew back, checked by its painful wound,
Then sank with quivering limbs upon the ground:
Its dark eye glazed; while that untasted flood
To serve some brighter destiny was bound.
I, too, O hart! athirst and wounded, see
The stream of joy flow by in vain; but not
To perish hopeless on its bank like thee.
Thy fate hath brought to mind my happier lot;
The quickening waters I may meet once more,
Spread in a glassy sea,—Eternity their shore.
August 13. 1848.