From: Poems (1844)
Author: Christopher Pearse Cranch
Published: Carey and Hart 1844 Philadelphia




I’LL love the Sonnet then for its own sake,
And calmly hold my quiet course along.
Like clouds and sky seen on some lonely lake,
Far from the crowded world, my humble song,
Although reflecting truth and loveliness,
May be unknown, save to a cherished few;
Yet shall I never love my pen the less,
Nor cease to wreathe my little lyre anew
With the wild wood-vine and the simple green
Of Nature. Yes, the soul must sometimes speak,
And though its numbers flow almost unseen,
It hath within itself, nor harsh, nor weak,
A harmony that will at times have vent,
Though all untuned the while, the poor, dull instrument.


All Sub-Works of Poems (1844):
PDF Sub-Works open in a new tab. Close the tab when done viewing to return here.