Sonett-Forum

Yon oak has brav’d full many a wintry storm
And frown’d defiance to the changeful year.
The summer lightnings flashed in fury near,
The gales of Autumn how I’d around its form,

But steadfast, undismay’d, it scorn’d their pow’r,
And now, see evening’s softest loveliest ray
Illumes its leaves, while zephyrs tired with play,
Sleep on the bosom of the silent hour.

Then, tho’ the gusts of sad misfortune blow
O’er this chill’d bosom, I will not despair;
hope, gentle Hope, shall point to prospects fair,

Where flow’rets bloom, and lingering sun beams glow;
Where, when Adversity’s dark clouds are past,
The smile of peace shall sooth my soul at last.