Sonnet LXVIII

FALL, dews of Heaven, upon my burning breast,Bathe with cool drops these ever-streaming eyes,Ye gentle Winds, that fan the balmy West,With the soft rippling tide of morning rise,And calm my bursting heart, as here I keepThe vigil of the wretched!—Now awayFade the pale stars, as wavering o'er the deepSoft rosy tints announce another day,The day of Middle Summer!—Ah! in vainTo those who mourn like me, does radiant JuneLead on her fragrant hours; for hopeless painDarkens with sullen clouds the Sun of Noon,And veil'd in shadows Nature's face appearsTo hearts o'erwhelm'd with grief, to eyes suffused with tears.