Anna Seward

WINTER EVENING.When mourn the dark Winds o'er the lonely plain,
And from pale noon sinks, ere the fifth cold hour,
The transient light, Imagination's power,
With Knowledge, and with Science in her train,…

As lightens the brown Hill to vivid green
When juvenescent April's showery Sun
Looks on its side, with golden glance, at Noon;
So on the gloom of Life's now faded scene…

SUBJECT CONTINUED.You, whose dull spirits feel not the fine glow
Enthusiasm breathes, no more of light
Perceive ye in rapt Poesy, tho' bright
In Fancy's richest colouring, than can flow…

SUMMER.Now on hills, rocks, and streams, and vales, and plains,
Full looks the shining Day.—Our gardens wear
The gorgeous robes of the consummate Year.
With laugh, and shout, and song, stout Maids and Swains…

See wither'd Winter, bending low his head;
His ragged locks stiff with the hoary dew;
His eyes, like frozen lakes, of livid hue;
His train, a sable cloud, with murky red…

SUBJECT CONTINUED.My hour is not yet come!—these burning eyes
Have not yet look'd their last!—else, 'mid the roar
Of this wild Storm, what gloomy joy to pour
My freed, exhaling Soul!—sublime to rise,…

WRITTEN AT LICHFIELD,
IN AN EASTERN APARTMENT OF THE BISHOP'S PALACE,
WHICH COMMANDS A VIEW OF STOW VALLEY.In this chill morning of a wintry Spring
I look into the gloom'd and rainy vale;…

Not the slow Hearse, where nod the sable plumes,
The Parian Statue, bending o'er the Urn,
The dark robe floating, the dejection worn
On the dropt eye, and lip no smile illumes;…

Dark as the silent stream beneath the night,
    Thy funeral glides to Life's eternal home,
    Child of its narrow house!—how late the bloom,
    The facile smile, the soft eye's crystal light,…

ON A LOCK OF MISS SARAH SEWARD'S HAIR
WHO DIED IN HER TWENTIETH YEAR.My Angel Sister, tho' thy lovely form
Perish'd in Youth's gay morning, yet is mine
This precious Ringlet!—still the soft hairs shine,…

TO A YOUNG LADY IN AFFLICTION,
WHO FANCIED SHE SHOULD NEVER MORE BE HAPPY.Yes, thou shalt smile again!—Time always heals
In youth, the wounds of Sorrow.—O! survey
Yon now subsided Deep, thro' Night a prey…

SPRING.In April's gilded morn when south winds blow,
And gently shake the hawthorn's silver crown,
Wafting its scent the forest-glade adown,
The dewy shelter of the bounding Doe,…

TO A COFFIN-LID.Thou silent Door of our eternal sleep,
Sickness, and pain, debility, and woes,
All the dire train of ills Existence knows,
Thou shuttest out FOR EVER!—Why then weep…

WRITTEN DECEMBER 1790.Lyre of the Sonnet, that full many a time
Amus'd my lassitude, and sooth'd my pains,
When graver cares forbade the lengthen'd strains,
To thy brief bound, and oft-returning chime…

From a riv'd Tree, that stands beside the grave
Of the Self-slaughter'd, to the misty Moon
Calls the complaining Owl in Night's pale noon;
And from a hut, far on the hill, to rave…

Behold that Tree, in Autumn's dim decay,
Stript by the frequent, chill, and eddying Wind;
Where yet some yellow, lonely leaves we find
Lingering and trembling on the naked spray,…

While unsuspecting trust in all that wears
Virtue's bright semblance, stimulates my heart
To find its dearest pleasures in the part
Taken in other's joys; yielding to theirs…

O, Genius! does thy Sun-resembling beam
To the internal eyes of Man display
In clearer prospect, the momentous way
That leads to peace? Do they not rather seem…

While one sere leaf, that parting Autumn gilds,
Trembles upon the thin, and naked spray,
November, dragging on his sunless day,
Lours, cold and fallen, on the watry fields;…

TO THE POPPY.While Summer Roses all their glory yield
To crown the Votary of Love and Joy,
Misfortune's Victim hails, with many a sigh,
Thee, scarlet Poppy of the pathless field,…

On the fleet streams, the Sun, that late arose,
   In amber radiance plays; the tall young grass
   No foot hath bruised; clear morning, as I pass,
   Breathes the pure gale, that on the blossom blows;…

TO THE DEPARTING SPIRIT OF AN ALIENATED FRIEND.O, EVER DEAR! thy precious, vital powers
Sink rapidly!—the long and dreary Night
Brings scarce an hope that Morn's returning light
Shall dawn for THEE!—In such terrific hours,…

SUBJECT CONTINUED.If Genius has its danger, grief and pain,
That Common-Sense escapes, yet who wou'd change
The Powers, thro' Nature, and thro' Art that range,
To keep the bounded, tho' more safe domain…

The Future, and its gifts, alone we prize,
Few joys the Present brings, and those alloy'd;
Th' expected fulness leaves an aching void;
But Hope stands by, and lifts her sunny eyes…