Sonnet LXVIII (FALL, dews of Heaven, upon my…)

FALL, dews of Heaven, upon my burning breast, Bathe with cool drops these ever-streaming eyes, Ye gentle Winds, that fan the balmy West, With the soft rippling tide of morning rise, And calm my bursting heart, as here I keep The vigil of the wretched!—Now away Fade the pale stars, as wavering o'er the deep Soft rosy tints announce another day, The day of Middle Summer!—Ah! in vain To those who mourn like me, does radiant June Lead on her fragrant hours; for hopeless pain Darkens with sullen clouds the Sun of Noon, And veil'd in shadows Nature's face appears To hearts o'erwhelm'd with grief, to eyes suffused with tears.