Poem by Mary Robinson

Sonnet 27. Oh! Ye Bright Stars

Oh! ye bright Stars! that on the Ebon fields
Of Heav’n’s empire, trembling seems to stand;
’Till rosy morn unlocks her portal bland,
Where the proud Sun his fiery banner wields!
To flames, less fierce than mine, your lustre yields,
And pow’rs more strong my countless tears command;
Love strikes the feeling heart with ruthless hand,
And only spares the breast which dullness shields!
Since, then, capricious nature but bestows
The fine affections of the soul, to prove
A keener sense of desolating woes,
Far, far from me the empty boast remove;
If bliss from coldness, pain from passion flows,
Ah! who would wish to feel, or learn to love?

1. Sonnet 41. Yes, I Will Go
2. Sonnet 28. Weak Is the Sophistry
3. Sonnet 38. Oh Sigh
4. Ode to Envy
5. Sonnet 40. On the Low Margin

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