SONNET.
Mundy, whose song hath taught the forest swain
To view fair Needwood thro’ the radiance clear
Of bright imagination, taught the tear
To glisten in his eye for other’s pain,
And own that taste and virtue are not vain,
How was thy pipe melodious wont to cheer
The wintry groves, when every leaf was sear,
And brighten summer with its artful strain!—
Say, by what meed shall Needwood court thy stay?
She unsuspecting twines in amorous care
Her favorite holly and her flower-bells gay,
To deck with modest hand her lover’s hair,—
Ah, do not thou her gentle hope betray,
And doom her tender bosom to despair!
B. B.