Sonnets and canzonets / A. Bronson Alcott [electronic text]

"If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep, My dreams presage some joyful news at hand: My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne, And all this day an unaccustomed spirit Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts."

SHAKESPEARE.

VII.

THE morning's clear, the sky without a frown, The dew-bespangled pastures wet the shoe; Sauntering full early toward the sleeping town, We 'll take the dry, well-trodden avenue; On these crisp pathways, and familiar grounds (Unless my flattering heart be over-bold), While lingering purposely amid our rounds, Some shady lane may love to hear all told. One name has captured his too partial ear,— (These kind, concealing bushes love invite No tell-tales are, nor neighbors impolite;) I 'll hear his suit devoid of blame or fear. Impatiently the moment I await; Who nothing ventures, stays disconsolate.