Later Sonnets: New Things Are Best

WHAT shall I tell you, child, in this new Sonnet ?
Life's art is to forget, and last year's sowing
Cast in Time's furrow with the storm winds blowing
Bears me a wild crop with strange fancies on it.
Last year I wore your sole rose in my bonnet.
This year — who knows — who, even the All-knowing,
What to my vagrant heart, for its undoing,
Of weeds shall blossom ere my tears atone it ?
— New Spring is in the air with new desirings ;
New wonders fructify Earth, Sea, and Heaven,
And happy birds sing loud from a new nest.
Ah, why then grieve Love's recreant aspirings,
His last year's hopes, his vows forgot, forgiven ?
Child, be we comforted ! New things are best.