Sonnet.
When the rough storm roars round the peasant's cot, And bursting thunders roll their awful din; While shrieks the frighted night-bird o'er the spot, Oh! what serenity remains within! For there contentment, health, and peace, abide, And pillow'd age, with calm eye fix'd above; Labour's bold son, his blithe and blooming bride, And lisping innocence, and filial love. To such a scene let proud Ambition turn, Whose aching breast conceals its secret woe; Then shall his fireful spirit melt, and mourn The mild enjoyments it can never know; Then shall he feel the littleness of state, And sigh that fortune e'er had made him great.
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"When the rough storm roars round the peasant's cot,..."
Exploring the themes of classic, Thomas Gent delivers a powerful performance in "Sonnet."... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...