*** SONNET. THE merry cuckow, messenger of spring, SPENSER. SONNET. FAIR is the rising morn, when o'er the sky Than all the scenes in nature's ample sway, Such delight, The voice that bids us welcome. Ye hours of happiness! ye speed along; Whilst I, from all the world's cold cares apart, Pour out the feelings of my burthened heart.-SoOUTHEY. SONNET. GIVE me a cottage on some Cambrian wild, And, by the beauties of the scene beguiled, List to the mountain torrent's distant noise, I shall not want the world's delusive joys; Shall think my lot complete, nor covet more; Shall make sweet music o'er my lonely grave. |