Sonnet.

SONNET.

TROUBLED ocean! troubled ocean! Thee calmer gales shall sooth to rest; But what shall smooth that keener motion, That rankles in my anxious breast.

Dark clouds the azure skies obscuring, Winds waft them, and fair suns appear; But when my clouded eye is weeping, Can aught disperse the bitter tear.

To sable night for Phebus mourning, Cynthia lends her placid beam; Oh say! what dawn of hope returning, On my sorrowing heart shall gleam?

Thou pliant willow, pliant willow, That bends and rises from the storm; So could I rise from that rude billow, Which would o'erwhelm me in the storm.

Oh! come then heavenly resignation, And bear me in the adverse stream; Till to celestial bliss I waken, From life as from a painful dream.