Poems (Temple)/Sonnet 3

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SONNET III. 
When grey Eve steals along the Western sky,Musing I climb the headland's craggy steep;Gaze on the bosom of the tranquil deep,And watch the white clouds that beneath me fly.Or when the pale-moon's cold and pensive rayBreaks softly o'er the dusky brow of night;I love to view her dancing chequer'd light,O'er the wide world of waters sweetly stray.Then comes the memory of other hours,When on a scene like this I've paused—the while,Friendship would cheer me with her beamy smile,And young-eyed Fancy cull her wildest flow'rs.Oh! that as flies, the dew-drop from each blade,Life's mantling spring-tide from the soul should fade!
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