"METHOUGHT I SAW THE FOOTSTEPS OF A THRONE"
The latter part of this Sonnet was a great favourite with my
sister S. H. When I saw her lying in death, I could not resist the
impulse to compose the Sonnet that follows it.
METHOUGHT I saw the footsteps of a throne
Which mists and vapours from mine eyes did shroud--
Nor view of who might sit thereon allowed;
But all the steps and ground about were strown
With sights the ruefullest that flesh and bone
Ever put on; a miserable crowd,
Sick, hale, old, young, who cried before that cloud,
"Thou art our king, O Death! to thee we groan."
Those steps I clomb; the mists before me gave
Smooth way; and I beheld the face of one
Sleeping alone within a mossy cave,
With her face up to heaven; that seemed to have
Pleasing remembrance of a thought foregone;
A lovely Beauty in a summer grave!