Sonnet

With wayworn feet a Pilgrim woe-begone
  Life's upward road I journeyed many a day,
  And hymning many a sad yet soothing lay
Beguil'd my wandering with the charms of song.
  Lonely my heart and rugged was my way,
Yet often pluck'd I as I past along
  The wild and simple flowers of Poesy,
And as beseem'd the wayward Fancy's child
  Entwin'd each random weed that pleas'd mine eye.
Accept the wreath, BELOVED! it is wild
  And rudely garlanded; yet scorn not thou
The humble offering, where the sad rue weaves
'Mid gayer flowers its intermingled leaves,
  And I have twin'd the myrtle for thy brow.