Laura Sophia Temple

Sonnet 2. To the Morning Star

Hail lovely loiterer that greet'st my eyes,
Thou sweet precursor of the merry morn,
At sight of whom she trips along the skies,
Waking the orient children of the dawn.
Oh ! let me catch thy lustre ere it fly !
Still pour upon the sleeping world thy glance,
While rapt in fancy's sweet illusive trance
This wayward bosom shall forget to sigh.
Oft thou remindest me of Hope's fair light
Whose gay beams danc'd around my youthful heart
And when Joy's prouder splendours took their flight
Linger'd behind unwilling to depart.
But not like thee--to Night IT yielded place,
Nor was succeeded by one smiling grace.

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