Sonnet. To an Enthusiast.

Young ardent soul, graced with fair Nature’s truth,

Spring warmth of heart, and fervency of mind,

And still a large late love of all thy kind.

Spite of the world’s cold practice and Time’s tooth —

For all these gifts, I know not, in fair sooth,

Whether to give thee joy, or bid thee blind

Thine eyes with tears — that thou hast not resign’d

The passionate fire and freshness of thy youth:

For as the current of thy life shall flow,

Gilded by shine of sun or shadow-stain’d,

Through flow’ry valley or unwholesome fen,

Thrice blessed in thy joy, or in thy woe

Thrice cursed of thy race — thou art ordain’d

To share beyond the lot of common men.