Full Online Books
BOOK CATEGORIES
Authors Authors Short Stories Short Stories Long Stories Long Stories Funny Stories Funny Stories Love Stories Love Stories Stories For Kids Stories For Kids Poems Poems Essays Essays Nonfictions Nonfictions Plays Plays Folktales Folktales Fairy Tales Fairy Tales Fables Fables Learning Kitchen Learning Kitchen
LINKS
Valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional Free Classified Website Without Registration Free Classified Website Daniel Company
Twitter Twitter Add book
donate
Full Online Book HomePoemsSonnet 4: To Honora Sneyd, Whose Health Was Always Best In Winter
Famous Authors (View All Authors)
Sonnet 4: To Honora Sneyd, Whose Health Was Always Best In Winter Post by :traveldan Category :Poems Author :Anna Seward Date :October 2011 Read :1733

Click below to download : Sonnet 4: To Honora Sneyd, Whose Health Was Always Best In Winter (Format : PDF)

Sonnet 4: To Honora Sneyd, Whose Health Was Always Best In Winter

TO
HONORA SNEYD(1),
WHOSE HEALTH WAS ALWAYS BEST IN WINTER.


And now the youthful, gay, capricious Spring,
Piercing her showery clouds with crystal light,
And with their hues reflected streaking bright
Her radiant bow, bids all her Warblers sing;
The Lark, shrill caroling on soaring wing;
The lonely Thrush, in brake, with blossoms white,
That tunes his pipe so loud; while, from the sight
Coy bending their dropt heads, young Cowslips fling
Rich perfume o'er the fields.--It is the prime
Of Hours that Beauty robes:--yet all they gild,
Cheer, and delight in this their fragrant time,
For thy dear sake, to me less pleasure yield
Than, veil'd in sleet, and rain, and hoary rime,
Dim Winter's naked hedge and plashy field.

May 1770.

1: Afterwards Mrs. Edgeworth.


(The end)
Anna Seward's poem: Sonnet 4: To Honora Sneyd, Whose Health Was Always Best In Winter

If you like this book please share to your friends :
NEXT BOOKS

Sonnet 5: To A Friend, Who Thinks Sensibility A Misfortune Sonnet 5: To A Friend, Who Thinks Sensibility A Misfortune

Sonnet 5: To A Friend, Who Thinks Sensibility A Misfortune
Ah, thankless! canst thou envy him who gains The Stoic's cold and indurate repose? Thou! with thy lively sense of bliss and woes!-- From a false balance of life's joys and pains Thou deem'st him happy.--Plac'd 'mid fair domains, Where full the river down the valley flows, As wisely might'st thou wish thy home had rose On the parch'd surface of unwater'd plains, For that, when long the heavy rain descends, Bursts over guardian banks their whelming tide!--
PREVIOUS BOOKS

Sonnet 3: From These Wild Heights, Where Oft The Mists Descend Sonnet 3: From These Wild Heights, Where Oft The Mists Descend

Sonnet 3: From These Wild Heights, Where Oft The Mists Descend
WRITTEN AT BUXTON IN A RAINY SEASON From these wild heights oft the mists descend In rains, that shroud the sun, and chill the gale, Each transient, gleaming interval we hail, And rove the naked vallies, and extend Our gaze around yon vast mountains blend With billowy clouds, that o'er their summits sail; Pondering, how little Nature's charms befriend The barren scene, monotonous, and pale. Yet solemn when the darkening shadows fleet Successive o'er the
NEXT 10 BOOKS | PREVIOUS 10 BOOKS | RANDOM 10 BOOKS
LEAVE A COMMENT