SONNET.

Crescit sub pondere virtus.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

A NEW acquaintance! With a vague surmise

I ponder if the days to come shall prove

As past and present; keen awakenings,

To look on sights that stab my staring eyes,

To see the treacheries of those I love,

Pain, hate, shame, wrong, and all life's darkest things.

I wonder if this rose beside my path,

When with a closer hand I clasp its bloom,

Shall thrill my soul with more of joy or wrath,

Leave memory more of thorn or of perfume.

Ah well, I take the clew; it may entice

My soul from passionate distrust and pain:

I follow where it leads with golden chain

To Friendship's realm; perchance, Love's paradise.

C. F. L.

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