letra de sonnet july 18th 1787 by william lisle bowles - richard mitchley
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o time! who know’st a lenient hand to lay
softest on sorrow’s wound, and slowly thence
(lulling to sad repose the weary sense)
the faint pang stealest unperceived away;
on thee i rest my only hope at last
and think, when thou hast dried the bitter tear
that flows in vain o’er all my soul held dear
i may look back on every sorrow past
and meet life’s peaceful evening with a smile—
as some lone bird, at day’s departing hour
sings in the sunbeam, of the transiеnt shower
forgetful, though its wings are wеt the while:—
yet ah! how much must that poor heart endure
which hopes from thee, and thee alone, a cure!
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