To S. H.[452]

Composed 1827.--Published 1827

One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."--ED.

Excuse is needless when with love sincere Of occupation, not by fashion led, Thou turn'st the Wheel that slept with dust o'erspread; My nerves from no such murmur shrink,--tho' near, Soft as the Dorhawk's to a distant ear, When twilight shades darken the mountain's head. Even She who toils to spin our vital thread Might smile on work, O Lady, once so dear To household virtues. Venerable Art, Torn from the Poor! yet shall kind Heaven protect Its own; though Rulers, with undue respect, Trusting to crowded factory and mart And proud discoveries of the intellect, Heed not the pillage of man's ancient heart.