SONNET.
Reading edition
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BY MRS. SEBA SMITH.
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I dreamed last night, that I myself did lay
Within the grave—and after stood and wept—
My spirit sorrowed where its ashes slept—
’Twas a strange dream, and yet meseems it may
Prefigure that which is akin to truth—
How sorrow we o’er perish’d dreams of youth!
High hopes, and aspirations doom’d to be
Crush’d, and o’er-mastered by earth’s destiny!
Fame, that the spirit loathing turns to ruth—
And that deluding faith so loath to part,
That earth will shrine for us one kindred heart;
Oh, ’tis the ashes of such things, that wring
Tears from the eyes! Hopes like to these depart,
And we bow down in dread, o’er-shadowed by death’s wing.