Sonnet 38 (Miscellaneous Sonnets)

Right merry lass, thy overweening joy
Turns an old man into a merry boy.
One hour with thee pays off the long arrears,
The heavy debt of almost fifty years.
Oft have I view'd that lake so beautiful.
And felt its quiet power, benign, to lull
The inward being to a soft repose ;
Patient, yet not forgetful of the woes
That are the heritage of mortal breath,
As if one note divided life and death.
But thou, sweet maid, with ready mirth dost fill
The wide survey of water, wood, and hill.
I feel a pulse of pleasure newly born.
And scarce believe that " man was made to mourn.