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Sonnet When I hâve fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has glearfd my teeming brain. Before high piled books, in characterv. Hold like rich garners the full ripen’d grain ; When I behold, upon the night’s starr’d face, Huge cloudv symbols of a high, romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magie hand of chance ; And when I feel, fair créature of an hour, That I shall never look upon thee more. Never hâve relish in the faerv power Of unreflecting love ; — then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and famé to nothingness do sink. i>o —
