Page:Elegiac Sonnets The Third Edition.pdf/19

 SONNET I. HE partial Muse, has from my earliest hours
 * Smil'd on the rugged path I'm doom'd to tread,

And still with sportive hand has snatch'd wild flowers,
 * To weave fantastic garlands for my head:

But far, far happier is the lot of those
 * Who never learn'd her dear delusive art,

Which while it decks the head with many a rose,
 * Reserves the thorn, to fester in the heart.

Rh