SONNET VII

Mild arch of promise! on the evening sky

Thou shinest fair with many a lovely ray

Each in the other melting. Much mine eye

Delights to linger on thee; for the day,

Changeful and many-weather'd, seem'd to smile

Flashing brief splendor thro’ its clouds awhile,

That deepen'd dark anon and fell in rain:

But pleasant is it now to pause, and view

Thy various tints of frail and watery hue,

And think the storm shall not return again.

Such is the smile that Piety bestows

On the good man's pale cheek, when he in peace

Departing gently from a world of woes,

Anticipates the realm where sorrows cease.