On the Prospect of Evil Days. (A Sonnet for the Century)

Tis not a time for Triumph and Delight:
For dance and song, for jocund thoughts and ease;
Like cloud on cloud before a stormy night
Sorrows I see, and doleful deeds increase, —

Rebellion like the Urican shall come,
And Change, like mighty winds, whose lowering moan
Swells to a shout that makes the thunders dumb;
And bloody Anarchs call the earth their own:

But when this time of Terror and Despair
Is past, though I be weary and o'erworn,
O let me live to breathe the freshen'd air,
And see the glory of that happy morn,

When the new Day shall o'er the mountains roll
And Love once more pour down his sunny soul.