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Poem by Mary Robinson

Sonnet. Inscribed to Her Grace the Duchess of Devonshire

TIS NOT thy flowing hair of orient gold,
Nor those bright eyes, like sapphire gems that glow;
Nor cheek of blushing rose, nor breast of snow,
The varying passions of the heart could hold: 

Those locks, too soon, shall own a silvry ray,
Those radiant orbs their magic fires forego;
Insatiate TIME shall steal those tints away,
Warp thy fine form, and bend thy beauties low: 

But the rare wonders of thy polishd MIND
Shall mock the empty menace of decay;
The GEM, that in thy SPOTLESS BREAST enshrind,
Glows with the light of intellectual ray;
Shall, like the Brilliant, scorn each borrowd aid,
And deckd with native lustre NEVER FADE!

Mary Robinson

Mary Robinson's other poems:
  1. Sonnet to My Beloved Daughter
  2. Sonnet 40. On the Low Margin
  3. Sonnet 42. Oh! Canst Thou Bear
  4. Sonnet 24. O Thou! Meek Orb
  5. Stanzas Written under an Oak in Windsor Forest

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