A Wreath Of Sonnets (10/14)

Frail growth these blossoms had, so sad and few: As when on some warm February day An early rose unfolds her petals gay, Enjoying for a space the sun anew, But bends her stricken head as soon as due Storm-driven mists come, and with icy spray The hoar-frost falls from skies grown cold and grey, While hill and dale are decked in snowy hue. Thus did your beauty's sun upon me smile - A radiance I would search for and pursue To warm the petals of my love awhile. But false that sunshine proved. Then they must rue Their error in a frost naught could beguile, As over them malignant storm clouds flew.