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Poem by Mary Robinson

Sonnet 32. Blest As the Gods

Blest as the Gods! Sicilian Maid is he,
The youth whose soul thy yielding graces charm;
Who bound, O! thraldom sweet! by beautys arm,
In idle dalliance fondly sports with thee!
Blest as the Gods! that ivry throne to see,
Throbbing with transports, tender, timid, warm!
While round thy fragrant lips zephyrs swarm!
As opning buds attract the wandring Bee!
Yet, short is youthful passions fervid hour;
Soon, shall another clasp the beauteous boy;
Soon, shall a rival prove, in that gay bowr,
The pleasing torture of excessive joy!
The Bee flies sickend from the sweetest flowr;
The lightnings shaft, but dazzles to destroy!

Mary Robinson

Mary Robinson's other poems:
  1. The Lascar
  2. Sonnet 36. Lead Me, Sicilian Maids
  3. Ode to Envy
  4. Sonnet 40. On the Low Margin
  5. Sonnet 16. Delusive Hope

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