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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.

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