Sonnet III
AH, happy time! when music bound in one
Two kindred souls that ne’er were out of tune:
When in the porch, beneath the summer moon,
Our supper o’er, our school-boy lessons done,
While other lads were at some boisterous fun,
We trilled our Tara’s Hall or Bonnie Doon:
Or in some fire-lit wintry afternoon,
Our flutes, you first, I second, bravely won
Their winding path through many a tough duet;
Nor cared for plaudits louder than the praise
Mother or sisters, in those simple days,
Well pleased, bestowed: ah, sweeter than we met
In after-life, from critics pledged to raise
Art’s standard high as dome or minaret.
