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Robert Southey - Sonnet 03
Work rating: Low

Not to thee Bedford mournful is the tale
    Of days departed. Time in his career
    Arraigns not thee that the neglected year
  Has past unheeded onward. To the vale
  Of years thou journeyest. May the future road
    Be pleasant as the past! and on my friend
    Friendship and Love, best blessings! still attend,
  `Till full of days he reach the calm abode
  Where Nature slumbers. Lovely is the age
    Of Virtue. With such reverence we behold
    The silver hairs, as some grey oak grown old
  That whilome mock`d the rushing tempest`s rage
  Now like the monument of strength decayed
With rarely-sprinkled leaves casting a trembling shade.
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