Sonett-Forum

WHERE, thro' the starry curtains of the night,
Soft whisp'ring breezes wake the ruddy morn,
Whose sparkling eye darts forth returning light,
Whose golden brows refulgent beams adorn:

Where gaudy blossoms o'er the tufted vale,
Fling their soft breathings on the spicy gale,
From the lorn NIGHTINGALE on yonder spray,
In melting murmurs steals the love-fraught lay;

Stranger to joy and hopeless of relief,
At morn's proud glow–and twilight's pensive hour,
Her widow'd breast its plaintive song shall pour,
In all the luxury of tender grief:
For ah ! nor morn, nor fragrant gales can move
The faithful heart that MOURNS A TRUANT LOVE.