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Anna Seward (Анна Сьюард)

Sonnet 55. Loud blew the North thro' April's pallid days

               IN THE YEAR 1785.

Loud blew the North thro' April's pallid days,
    Nor grass the field, nor leaves the grove obtains,
    Nor crystal sun-beams, nor the gilded rains,
    That bless the hours of promise, gently raise
Warmth in the blood, without that fiery blaze,
    Which makes it boil along the throbbing veins.—
    Albion, displeas'd, her own lov'd Spring surveys
    Passing, with volant step, o'er russet plains;
Sees her to Summer's fierce embraces speed,
    Pale, and unrobed.—Faithless! thou well may'st hide
    Close in his sultry breast thy recreant head,
That did'st, neglecting thy distinguish'd Isle,
    In Winter's icy arms so long abide,
    While Britain vainly languish'd for thy smile!

Anna Seward's other poems:
  1. Sonnet 99. Remorseless Winter! in thy iron reign
  2. Sonnet 53. The knell of Whitehead tolls!—his cares are past
  3. Sonnet 11. How sweet to rove, from summer sun-beams veil'd
  4. Sonnet 24. Behold the Day an image of the Year!
  5. Sonnet 69. Time, and thy charms, thou fanciest will redeem

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