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Anna Seward (Анна Сьюард)


Sonnet 85. March, tho' the Hours of promise with bright ray


 TO MARCH.

March, tho' the Hours of promise with bright ray
    May gild thy noons, yet, on wild pinion borne,
    Loud Winds more often rudely wake thy morn,
    And harshly hymn thy early-closing day.
Still the chill'd Earth wears, with her tresses shorn,
    Her bleak, grey garb:—yet not for this we mourn,
    Nor, as in Winter's more enduring sway,
    With festal viands, and Associates gay,
Arm 'gainst the Skies;—nor shun the piercing gale;
    But, with blue cheeks, and with disorder'd hair,
    Meet its rough breath;—and peep for primrose pale,
Or lurking violet, under hedges bare;
    And, thro' long evenings, from our Lares[1] claim
    The thrift of stinted grate, and sullen flame.

1: Lares, Hearth-Gods. 



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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