Sonnet LXXVII

SMALL, viewless aeronaut, that by the lineOf Gossamer suspended, in mid airFloat'st on a sun beam—Living Atom, whereEnds thy breeze-guided voyage;—with what design,In Æther dost thou launch thy form minute,Mocking the eye?—Alas! before the veilOf denser clouds shall hide thee, the pursuitOf the keen Swift may end thy fairy sail!—Thus on the golden thread that Fancy weavesBuoyant, as Hope's illusive flattery breathes,The young and visionary Poet leavesLife's dull realities, while sevenfold wreathsOf rainbow-light around his head revolve.Ah! soon at Sorrow's touch the radiant dreams dissolve!