Sonnet[153:1]

Linenotes:

Title] Sonnet written on receiving letter informing me of the birth of a son, I being at Birmingham MS. Letter, Nov. 1, 1796.

shapeless] hopeless B. L.

Composed on a Journey Homeward; The Author Having Received Intelligence of the Birth of a Son, Sept. 20, 1796

Oft o'er my brain does that strange fancy roll
Which makes the present (while the flash doth last)
Seem a mere semblance of some unknown past,
Mixed with such feelings, as perplex the soul
Self-questioned in her sleep; and some have said
We liv'd, ere yet this robe of flesh we wore.
O my sweet baby! when I reach my door,
If heavy looks should tell me thou art dead,
(As sometimes, through excess of hope, I fear)
I think that I should struggle to believe
Thou wert a spirit, to this nether sphere
Sentenc'd for some more venial crime to grieve;
Did'st scream, then spring to meet Heaven's quick reprieve,
While we wept idly o'er thy little bier!

1796.