Sonnet

A GAIN , again, ye part in stormy grief
From these bare hills, and bowers so built in vain,
And lips and hearts that will not move again, —
Pathetic Autumn, and the writhled leaf;
Dropping away in tears with warning brief:
The wind reiterates a wailful strain,
And on the skylight beats the restless rain,
And vapour drowns the mountain, base and brow.
I watch the wet black roofs through mist defined,
I watch the raindrops strung along the blind,
And my heart bleeds, and all my senses bow
In grief; as one mild face, with suffering lined,
Comes up in thought: oh wildly, rain and wind,
Mourn on! she sleeps, nor heeds your angry sorrow now.
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