Sonnet

The world is with me, and its many cares,

Its woes—its wants—the anxious hopes and fears

That wait on all terrestrial affairs—

The shades of former and of future years—

Foreboding fancies, and prophetic tears,

Quelling a spirit that was once elate:—

Heavens! what a wilderness the earth appears,

Where Youth, and Mirth, and Health are out of date!

But no—a laugh of innocence and joy

Resounds, like music of the fairy race,

And gladly turning from the world's annoy

I gaze upon a little radiant face,

And bless, internally, the merry boy

Who "makes a son-shine in a shady-place."