Sonnet XVIII

SINCE in the pleasant time of opening flowers
That flow'r, Her life, was doom'd to fade away,--
Since Her dear loss hath shaded lovely hours,
And turn'd to mourning all the smiles of May,--
Henceforward when the warm soft breath of Spring
Bids cowslips star the meadows, thick and sweet;
When doves are in the green wood murmuring,
And children wander with delighted feet;
When, by their own rich beauty downward bent,
Soft Guelder-roses hang their tufts of snow,
And purple lilacs yield a fagrant scent,
And bright laburnum droops its yellow bough;--
Let that Spring-time be welcomed with a sigh,
For Her lamented Rake,--who was so young to die!