Sonnet. To Lydia, On Her Birth-Day.

A poem by Thomas Gent

Bless'd be the hour that gave my LYDIA birth,
The day be sacred 'mid each varying year;
How oft the name recals thy spotless worth,
And joys departed, still to memory dear!
If matchless friendship, constancy, and love,
Have power to charm, or one sad grief beguile,
'Tis thine the gloom of sorrow to remove,
And on the tearful cheek imprint a smile.
May every after-season to thee bring
New joys, to cheer life's dark eventful way,
Till time shall close thee in his pond'rous wing,
And angels waft thee to eternal day!
Loved friend, farewell! thy name this heart shall fill,
Till memory sinks, and all its griefs are still!

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