Sonnet LXII

WHILE thus I wander, cheerless and unblest,And find in change of place but change of pain;In tranquil sleep the village labourers rest,And taste that quiet I pursue in vain!Hush'd is the hamlet now, and faintly gleamThe dying embers, from the casement lowOf the thatch'd cottage; while the Moon's wan beamLends a new lustre to the dazzling snow.O'er the cold waste, amid the freezing night,Scarce heeding whither, desolate I stray;For me, pale Eye of Evening, thy soft lightLeads to no happy home; my weary wayEnds but in sad vicissitudes of care:I only fly from doubt—to meet despair!