Explore "Sonnets" by Helen Hay Whitney on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
He gives me happiness, as flowers depend / On loyal sun and shower. I look to love / To give me life. Why is it not enough? / Divine contentment, stretching without end / O'er happy meadows. He's my love, my friend, / And peace is in the word. You -- heart's despair -- / Sweep like a tempest through my sunsweet air, / Wail like a lost soul through my blossomed grove.
Tempest and calm, with him my heart might rest, / Lulled by eternal spring. The dream is blest, / Yet the wild grapes you crush make life divine.