Sonnet LXXII

WRITTEN IN THE RAINY SUMMER OF 1789

Ah, hapless June! circles yon lunar Sphere

Yet the dim Halo? whose cold powers ordain

Long o'er these vales shou'd sweep, in misty train,

The pale continuous showers, that sullying smear

Thy radiant lilies, towering on the plain;

Bend low, with rivel'd leaves of canker'd stain,

Thy drench'd and heavy rose.—Yet pledg'd and dear

Fair Hope still holds the promise of the Year;

Suspends her anchor on the silver horn

Of the next wexing Orb, tho', June, thy Day,

Robb'd of its golden eve, and rosy morn,

And gloomy as the Winter's rigid sway,

Leads sunless, lingering, disappointing Hours

Thro' the song-silent glades and dropping bowers.