Sonnets. Part II, XXX

Yet , even mid merry boyhood's tricks and scapes,Early my heart a deeper lesson learnt;Wandering alone by many a mile of burntBlack woodside, that but the snow-flake decks and drapes.And I have stood beneath Canadian sky,In utter solitudes, where the cricket's cryAppals the heart, and fear takes visible shapes;And on Long Island's void and isolate capesHeard the sea break like iron bars: and still,In all, I seemed to hear the same deep dirge;Borne in the wind, the insect's tiny trill,And crash and jangle of the shaking surge;And knew not what they meant, -- prophetic woe?Dim bodings, wherefore? Now, indeed, I know!