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 floodTo serve some brighter destiny was bound.I, too, O hart! athirst and wounded, seeThe 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.