All English Sonnets
While taking leave, I ruminate and wonder
That though my journey has been very brief,
I quickly lost my roaring, noisy thunder
And quietly leave this trail, full of grief.
The beginning was auspicious and serene,
And every thing appeared to be straight,
But misty easiness of clamorous scene,
Did hide from me, the hidden hand of fate.
The dullness of the road defeated me:
No ups and downs, ditches or delays;
No changes in the pace or sudden spree,
The venom of the plainness of the days.
I came with roaring hopes but my parting
Is full of sadness I am now departing.