Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 1.djvu/134

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118

SONNET IV.

What tho' no sculptured monument proclaim Thy fate—yet Albert in my breast I bearInshrined the sad remembrance; yet thy name Will fill my throbbing bosom. When DespairThe child of murdered Hope, fed on thy heart, Loved honoured friend, I saw thee sink forlorn,Pierced to the soul by cold Neglect's keen dart, And Penury's hard ills, and pitying Scorn,And the dark spectre of departed Joy Inhuman Memory. Often on thy graveLove I the solitary hour to employThinking on other days; and heave the sigh Responsive, when I mark the high grass waveSad sounding as the cold breeze rustles by.1794.
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