SONNET VI.

As slow and solemn yonder deepening knell

Tolls through the sullen evening's shadowy gloom,

Alone and pensive, in my silent room,

On man and on mortality I dwell.

And as the harbinger of death I hear

Frequent and full, much do I love to muse

On life's distemper'd scenes of hope and fear;

And passion varying her camelion hues,

And man pursuing pleasure's empty shade,

‘ Till death dissolves the vision. So the child

In youth's gay morn with wondering pleasure smil'd,

As with the shining ice well-pleas'd he play'd;

Nor, as he grasps the crystal in his play,

Heeds how the faithless bauble melts away.