Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 1.djvu/218

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And pure affections like a little child,Sweet will it be to hover o'er the friendsBeloved; then sweetest if, as Duty prompts,With earthly care we in their breasts have sownThe seeds of Truth and Virtue, holy flowersWhose odour reacheth Heaven.When my sick Heart,(Sick[1] with hope long delayed, than, which no carePresses the crush'd heart heavier;) from itselfSeeks the best comfort, often have I deemedThat thou didst witness every inmost thoughtSeward! my dear dead friend! for not in vain,Oh early summon'd in thy heavenly course!Was thy brief sojourn here: me didst thou leave
  1. ↑
    Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.Proverbs. 
    Qua non gravior mortalibus addita cura,Spes ubi longa venit.Statius. 
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