Sonnet Iii Poem by Robert Anderson

TO AN AGED PARENT, ON SEEING HIM SHED TEARS.

Fond Parent, whom on earth I love most dear,
Why steals that sigh of sadness from thy breast?
I too do grieve to see thee sore oppress'd,
Whilst down thy care--worn cheek steals many a tear!
Thou weep'st, my father!--the sad cause I guess:
Long hast thou journey'd o'er life's mazy wild,
A sorrowing traveller, by false Hope beguil'd,
And few there be who pity thy distrees;
Nor Plenty on thy cot hath ever smil'd.
Robb'd of the blissful partner of each hour,
All thy self--promis'd joys, alas! are fled;
On thee life's wintry storms begin to low'r,
And thou dost bend. So fades the summer flow'r
At winter's keen approach, and droops its feeble head.