Wiersze - Sonnet


After dark vapours have oppress'd our plains
For a long dreary season, comes a day
Born of the gentle South, and clears away
From the sick heavens all unseemly stains,
The anxious month, relieved of its pains,
Takes as a long-lost right the feel of May;
The eyelids with the passing coolness play
Like rose leaves with the drip of summer rains.
The calmest thoughts come round us; as of leaves
Budding - fruit ripening in stilness - autumn suns
Smiling at eve upon the quiet sheaves -
Sweet Sappho's cheek - as smiling infant's breath -
The gradual sand that through an hourglass runs -
 A woodland rivulet - a Poet's death.