| Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867. | | | | X. To a Lady | | By Park Benjamin (1809–1864) |
| | | ’T IS winter now,—but spring will blossom soon, | |
| And flowers will lean to the embracing air, | |
| And the young buds will vie with them to share | |
| Each zephyr’s soft caress; and when the Moon | |
| Bends her new silver bow, as if to fling | 5 |
| Her arrowy lustre through some vapor’s wing, | |
| The streamlets will return the glance of night | |
| From their pure, gliding mirrors, set by spring | |
| Deep in rich frames of clustering chrysolite, | |
| Instead of winter’s crumbled sparks of white. | 10 |
| So, dearest! shall our loves, though frozen now, | |
| By cold unkindness, bloom like buds and flowers, | |
| Like fountain’s flash, for Hope with smiling brow | |
| Tells of a spring whose sweets shall all be ours! | | | | |
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