་་ཀྱི SONNETS. I. TO MISS KELLY. You are not, Kelly, of the common strain, gain; By fortune thrown amid the actors' train, Your tears have passion in them, and a grace That vanish and return we know not how- II. ON THE SIGHT OF SWANS IN KEN SINGTON GARDEN. QUEEN-BIRD that sittest on thy shining nest, hatchest, sorrow And thou, thou other royal bird, that watchest III. WAS it some sweet device of Faery And fancied wanderings with a fair-hair'd maid? In those fine eyes? methought they spake the while Soft soothing things, which might enforce despair To drop the murdering knife, and let go by IV. METHINKS how dainty sweet it were, reclin'd maid! Beloved! I were well content to play Or we might sit and tell some tender tale of faithful vows repaid by cruel scorn, A tale of true love, or of friend forgot ; And I would teach thee, lady, how to rail In gentle sort, on those who practise not Or love or pity, though of woman born. |