Page:Poems Hornblower.djvu/167

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155

SONNET.
There is an hour in which I think of thee,
'T is when the daylight fades upon the flowers,
And the moon dawns upon the evening horns,
And nature smiles in soft tranquillity.
'T is a sweet horn—for then the sighing wind,
With dirge-like music, lulls the world to rest;
More plaintive sings the bird upon the nest,
And all seems blessed;—then I call to mind
Thy gentle virtues, and the scenes beloved,
Which we together trod; and like a dream,
Most passing beautiful, do those days seem,
Of confidence serene, and faith approved.
Alas! even like the bright and sunny day,
Have those delightful scenes all past away!