SONNET.
TO HAPPINESS.
Oh! I do hail thee, Happiness, when thou
Dost shine athwart my path with light and love,
Dispensing joy, like Heaven's aërial bow,
When gathering clouds lour darkly from above.
Oh! I do hail thee, Happiness—the aim
And promise of my being live in thee;
I pine for thee as poets pine for fame,
Or slaves and captives for their liberty;
But fleeting art thou in this vale of strife,
A meteor gleaming o'er a desert heath—
So seldom comes thy smile to cheer our life,
We learn to hope 'twill visit us in death;
In what bright bower, supremest blessing, may
A mortal find thy never-dying ray?