Sonnet

The sorrows of this earth, how old they are,
How deep the passions driving all our race. 
I see this night against ten thousand more,
As witness to a prophecy, whose course
Drawn through the vast unfathomed interchange
Of sleep, revives a solemn harmony; 
Sweet raptures kiss, sensation untamed,
The shades of love so long passed to decay. 
So often was the focus of a dream,
Some glance of summer light across her face,
Or other, fairer, and more gentle themes
Whose likeness i will never now retrace. 
So when i meet that dim and total dream,
these images of you i will retain.