Sonett-Forum

There is a style of spirit, perchance rare,
Surveying varied objects, that surround
E'en as a lake reflects the concave fair,
Tho' not so unconsciously, — around

A pictured semblance true is ever found,
Unlike that streamlet ne'er warm'd with the glow,
TV influence with which the chaste sky is crown'd
That in pellucidness its glories show;

Such would pronounce the eye, was unadmiring
The " frigid soul" congeal'd every thought,
In vain beyond its clear surface, aspiring
Would icy bounds like fetters seek to rend ;
But reason to this mind has her strength brought
Where nature, as she is, her beauties blend.