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James Russell Lowell - Sonnett - XXVII
Work rating: Low

I thought our love at full, but I did err;
Joy`s wreath drooped o`er mine eyes; I could not see
That sorrow in our happy world must be
Love`s deepest spokesman and interpreter;
But, as a mother feels her child first stir
Under her heart, so felt I instantly
Deep in my soul another bond to thee
Thrill with that life we saw depart from her;
O mother of our angel child! twice dear!
Death knits as well as parts, and still, I wis,
Her tender radiance shall infold us here,
Even as the light, borne up by inward bliss,
Threads the void glooms of space without a fear,
To print on farthest stars her pitying kiss.
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