Sonnet [;] To Charles Lloyd
- 1The piteous sobs that choke the Virgin's breath
- 2For him, the fair betrothéd Youth, who lies
- 3Cold in the narrow dwelling, or the cries
- 4With which a Mother wails her darling's death,
- 5These from our nature's common impulse spring,
- 6Unblam'd, unprais'd; but o'er the piléd earth
- 7Which hides the sheeted corse of grey-hair'd Worth,
- 8If droops the soaring Youth with slacken'd wing;
- 9If he recall in saddest minstrelsy
- 10Each tenderness bestow'd, each truth imprest,
- 11Such grief is Reason, Virtue, Piety!
- 12And from the Almighty Father shall descend
- 13Comforts on his late evening, whose young breast
- 14Mourns with no transient love the Agéd Friend.