All English Sonnets
I have often talked of empty homes,
Where children are grown up gone away,
And written many learned epitomes
On aimless, loveless fleeting night and day
But also often, I surmise and think,
That every soul is pre-destined to run,
His lonely lonely race-sail or sink,
And carve his privet niche in the sun.
When on this happy train of thoughts, I browse,
And understand that children have to go,
I shed my personal needs, selfish grouse,
And further in my estimation grow.
Ah! every stage of life has different cache,
Which you can use with pleasure if you wish.