Sonett-Forum

O Friend! whose genial spirit, by the gift
Of a most bounteous nature, flings a shower
Of magic light along life’s shadowed hour;
As when day’s sovereign lord, behind the rift

Of summer’s brooding cloud, but looks, to lift
Incumbent heaviness from earth and sky,
With the bright beam of his exulting eye;
Think not the spirit’s course, whose silent drift

Flows on more calmly than the sparkling stream,
Is sad though thoughtfull, or must therefore seem
From secret care, to need some healing shrift;

Thine be, forever fresh and never coy,
The soul’s bright mood; - yet not less cheerful deem
The steadfast lustre of a sober joy!