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Poem by Mary Robinson


Sonnet to Amicus


WHOEER thou art, whose soul-enchanting song
Steals on the sullen ear of pensive woe;
To whom the sounds of melody belong,
Sounds, that can more than human bliss bestow; 

Like the wakd God of day, whose rays pervade
The spangled veil of night, and fling their fires
Oer the cold bosom of the emrald glade,
While bathd in tears, the virgin orb retires. 

Thy glowing verse illumes my path of care,
And warms each torpid fibre of my heart,
And tho my MUSE exults thy smiles to share,
She feels the force of thy superior art;
YET, shall she proudly own her timid lays,
The cherishd darlings of thy ENVIED PRAISE.



Mary Robinson


Mary Robinson's other poems:
  1. Sonnet to Evening
  2. Sonnet to My Beloved Daughter
  3. Sonnet 40. On the Low Margin
  4. Sonnet 42. Oh! Canst Thou Bear
  5. Sonnet 24. O Thou! Meek Orb


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