Sonnet I.
When Life's realities the Soul perceives Vain, dull, perchance corrosive, if she glows With rising energy, and open throws The golden gates of Genius, she achieves His fairy clime delighted, and receives In those gay paths, deck'd with the thornless rose, Blest compensation. - Lo! with alter'd brows Lours the false World, and the fine Spirit grieves; No more young Hope tints with her light and bloom The darkening Scene. - Then to ourselves we say, Come, bright IMAGINATION, come! relume Thy orient lamp; with recompensing ray Shine on the Mind, and pierce its gathering gloom With all the fires of intellectual Day!
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"When Life's realities the Soul perceives..."
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