The Lost Sonnet

<&he LOST SONNET This day I found a Sonnet that I lost, In years ago and covered o'er with dust; A sonnet written at a thankless cost When love to me was but a useless trust. This paper yet bears mark of foolish tears, Tears shed because a woman was not true, And I looked forward unto hated years, For balm of time not yet my anguish knew. Why count the years since anger made me write, Think on the hours that crept on feet of lead? Why care for tears that once made dim my sight, Since anger and blind passion both are dead? Ah, pain of love and desolation then, Now soul-possession and heart-peace again! — Alfred Lambourne.