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Sonnet—Pale Daughter of the Night.
On thou most beautiful and meek-eyed virgin,
Pale daughter of the night, how tempest tost
And wildered in these thickening clouds thou art,
Yet smiling ever with so sweet a face
Of love around thee, that in truth, methinks,
Even at these clouds thou canst not take offence,
Knowing thy glory and majestic form
Cannot be sullied; and the innocent,
Even like to thee, with undiminished beam,
Burst through the clouds of envious calumny
To shame the tongues, and give the lie to thoughts
Having no saintlike charity! Oh, yes, like thee,
Thus shine on darkness with forgiving look,
For Innocence and Mercy are twin-born!
