Sonnets from the Portuguese: XLII

."My future will not copy fair my past."-I wrote that once; and thinking at my sideMy ministering life-angel justifiedThe word by his appealing look upcastTo the white throne of God, I turned at last,And there, instead, saw thee, not unalliedTo angels in thy soul! Then I, long triedBy natural ills, received the comfort fast,While budding, at thy sight, my pilgrim's staffGave out green leaves with morning dews impearled.I seek no copy now of life's first half:Leave here the pages with long musing curled,And write me new my future's epigraph,New angel mine, unhoped for in the world!