Midnight Sonnet
As in the depths of some old forest home
The dead leaves lie and cumber all the ground,
Ev'n so my thoughts, with not a wing to roam,
Where erst they travelled without stint or bound,
Lie strewn promiscuous. Through all my mind
I seem to stumble over the dead past,
As if there were no present to be twined
In sweet memorial chapels round the brow
Of some dear fancy, though not doomed to last
Beyond the heart-beats of the passing Now.
Yet searching through the rubbish, I perceive
The sharp green blades just peering through the ground,
Fern fancies, as it were, round which to weave
Some yet unheard-of gleams of fine inspired sound.
---
Charles Sangster
1875
[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]
Charles Sangster (by George Dance)
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