Anna Seward (Анна Сьюард)

Sonnet 92. Behold that Tree, in Autumn's dim decay

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,
Twenty, perchance, for millions whirl'd away!
    Emblem, alas! too just, of Humankind!
    Vain Man expects longevity, design'd
    For few indeed; and their protracted day
What is it worth that Wisdom does not scorn?
    The blasts of Sickness, Care, and Grief appal,
    That laid the Friends in dust, whose natal morn
Rose near their own;—and solemn is the call;—
    Yet, like those weak, deserted leaves forlorn,
    Shivering they cling to life, and fear to fall!

1. Sonnet 53. The knell of Whitehead tolls!—his cares are past
2. Sonnet 15. The evening shines in May's luxuriant pride
3. Sonnet 87. Round Cleon's brow the Delphic laurels twine
4. Sonnet 45. From Possibility's dim chaos sprung
5. Sonnet 48. Now young-ey'd Spring, on gentle breezes borne

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