Sonett-Forum

As slow I climb the cliff's ascending side,
Much musing on the track of terror past,
When o'er the dark wave rode the howling blast,
Plased I look back, and view the tranquil tide,

That laves the pebbled shore; and now the beam
Of evening smiles on the gray battlement,
And yon forsaken tower that time has rent: -
The lifted oar far off with silver gleam

Is touched, and the hushed billows seem to sleep!
Soothed by the scene, even thus on sorrow's breast
A kindred stillness steals, and bids her rest;

Whilst sad airs stilly sigh along the deep,
Like melodies which mourn upon the lyre,
Waked by the breeze, and as they mourn, expire.