Anna Seward (Анна Сьюард)

Sonnet 94. All is not right with him, who ill sustains

All is not right with him, who ill sustains
    Retirement's silent hours.—Himself he flies,
    Perchance from that insipid equipoise,
    Which always with the hapless mind remains
That feels no native bias; never gains
    One energy of will, that does not rise
    From some external cause, to which he hies
    From his own blank inanity.—When reigns,
With a strong, cultur'd mind, this wretched hate
    To commune with himself, from thought that tells
    Of some lost joy, or dreaded stroke of Fate
He struggles to escape;—or sense that dwells
    On secret guilt towards God, or Man, with weight
    Thrice dire, the self-exiling flight impels.

1. Sonnet 7. By Derwent's rapid stream as oft I stray'd
2. Sonnet 1. When Life's realities the Soul perceives
3. Sonnet 77. O! hast thou seen a vernal Morning bright
4. Sonnet 13. Thou child of Night, and Silence, balmy Sleep
5. Sonnet 73. He who a tender long-lov'd Wife survives

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1346

Последние стихотворения

To English version