A SONNET.
The following Sonnet was an early production, which memory, more faithful to her trust than was expected, has long preserved for me; it is here inserted as a memorial of Mrs P——’s goodness, a small part of which was, that she taught me to knit Stockings, and by means of that employment, I enjoyed more liberty of walking about in the open air, than I could otherwise have had, and which exercise contributed greatly to promote what share of health I possessed: but every thing here is of a passing and changeable nature, I cannot now profit in that way, which was meant for my double benefit, my kind instructress has done with time and all its fleeting concerns.
Dear madam while I tread the verdant lawn,
With heartfelt satisfaction and delight;
Whither by morning’s mildest beauty drawn,
Or lur’d by calm approach of sober night.
Can I forget that I that pleasure owe
To you, but as the happy means regard
Of heaven’s best earthly bliss to me below;—
For what, save peace, can be with health compared.
I’ve known its loss, and therefore prize the more,
Its genial warmth enlivening all my frame;
It cheers, recruits, does brighter thoughts restore,
And under God from you these comforts came.
True as the unbroken thread leads to the clue,
So does your kindness lead my love to you.