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Poem by Mary Robinson

Sonnet 7. Come, Reason, Come!

Come, Reason, come! each nerve rebellious bind,
Lull the fierce tempest of my fevrish soul;
Come, with the magic of thy meek controul,
And check the wayward wandrings of my mind:
Estrangd from thee, no solace can I find,
Oer my rapt brain, where pensive visions stole,
Now passion reigns and stormy tumults roll--
So the smooth Sea obeys the furious wind!
In vain Philosophy unfolds his store,
Oerwhelmd is evry source of pure delight;
Dim is the golden page of wisdoms lore;
All nature fades before my sickning sight:
For what bright scene can fancys eye explore,
Midst dreary labyrinths of mental night?

Mary Robinson

Mary Robinson's other poems:
  1. Sonnet 24. O Thou! Meek Orb
  2. Stanzas Written under an Oak in Windsor Forest
  3. The Widows Home
  4. To Cesario
  5. Sonnet 44. Here Droops the Muse

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