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Poem by Mary Robinson
Sonnet to Evening
[Written under a tree in the woods of St. Amand, in Flanders.] SWEET BALMY HOUR! dear to the pensive mind, Oft have I watch’d thy dark and weeping shade, Oft have I hail’d thee in the dewy glade, And drop’d a tear of SYMPATHY refin’d. When humming bees, hid in their golden bow’rs, Sip the pure nectar of MAY’S blushing rose, Or faint with noon-day toils, their limbs repose, In Baths of Essence stol’n from sunny flow’rs. Oft do I seek thy shade dear with’ring tree, Sad emblem of my OWN disast’rous state; Doom’d in the spring of life, alas ! like THEE To fade, and droop beneath the frowns of FATE; Like THEE, may Heaven to ME the meed bestow, To shelter Sorrow’s tear, and sooth THE CHILD OF WOE.
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