shall the night have mercy on my weak soul?
t'is wonder and for that doth shine dimly
makes angry ships sink with undeserv'd pride
sorrowful and incomprehensible
stand my thoughts yielding bright with agony
twilight crawls by obscurely uncertain
in every new mourning hope starts anew
I can see a premonition through the
impenetrable grey of the wistful sky:
"Days of Beauty shall soon cease soft weeping.
Meadows will dance, and nature rejoices.
In a moment's lull, sorrow is no more.
As sure as the lark that sings out each morn,
My child, a wishful age of Peace is born."

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This Poems Story

I wrote this sonnet shortly after a tragic event in my life. The mood starts off dark and uncertain, but eventually moves to a brighter, and more hopeful tone. It speaks of a more hopeful tomorrow, even if things seem difficult in the present.