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My hundredth sonnet! Here I pause to brood A little by myself upon the theme Ere once again with the meandering stream Of my own thoughts I move. And it were good To give thanks for the labour that hath stood Between my soul and madness, like a gleam Of sunlight in the darkness of the dream Which passes over me, else scarce withstood. Wonderful is it how the heart o’erwrought Unloads in song, life’s passionate rebound ’Gainst agonies whose barb alone hath brought This bird of sorrows fluttering to the ground, And with these wild and wandering flowers of thought The portion of a prisoner metely crowned.

HESEPE, 23rd June