A Wreath Of Sonnets (10/14)

Frail growth these blossoms had, so sad and few:

As when on some warm February day

An early rose unfolds her petals gay,

Enjoying for a space the sun anew,

But bends her stricken head as soon as due

Storm-driven mists come, and with icy spray

The hoar-frost falls from skies grown cold and grey,

While hill and dale are decked in snowy hue.

Thus did your beauty's sun upon me smile -

A radiance I would search for and pursue

To warm the petals of my love awhile.

But false that sunshine proved. Then they must rue

Their error in a frost naught could beguile,

As over them malignant storm clouds flew.