Sonett-Forum

To A Friend


THOU art the Sun, dear Friend, and I the Earth,
In thy sweet influence my life revolves,
The fulness of thy light doth hide my dearth,
And thy perfection my defect absolves;
Yet oft the Sun expends his light in vain,
And shrouded deeply in tempestuous gloom,
The Earth, an alien in his bright domain,
Sweeps darkly on as to a hopeless doom.
But O, dear Friend, should e'er affection's face
By stormy vapours thus be hid from mine,
And I from day to day be doomed to trace
A lonely orbit, blame could not be thine:
From Earth itself it is that clouds are bred,
'Tis light alone that from the Sun is shed.