Sonnet IV.

If I could doubt that, in another sphere
Brighter than this, and ne'er to pass away,
The renovated soul shall live for aye,
Methinks such doubts would quickly disappear,
Friend, in thy presence, whom we all revere:
For when thy cheerful aspect I survey,
And mark thy sweet affections' ceaseless play,
Yet feel they lack their truest object here,--
How should my heart endure the freezing thought
That all this depth of love exists in vain;
Doom'd ne'er to lavish its rich sweets again
On him long lost, and oh, how fondly sought!
But here to dwell, in widowhood's dull pain,
A few brief years, then vanish into nought.