Poem by Anna Seward

Sonnet 50. In every breast Affection fires, there dwells

In every breast Affection fires, there dwells
    A secret consciousness to what degree
    They are themselves belov'd.—We hourly see
    Th' involuntary proof, that either quells,
Or ought to quell false hopes,—or sets us free
    From pain'd distrust;—but, O, the misery!
    Weak Self-Delusion timidly repels
    The lights obtrusive—shrinks from all that tells
Unwelcome truths, and vainly seeks repose
    For startled Fondness, in the opiate balm,
    Of kind profession, tho', perchance, it flows
To hush Complaint—O! in Belief's clear calm,
    Or 'mid the lurid clouds of Doubt, we find
    Love rise the Sun, or Comet of the Mind.

1. Sonnet 25. Fortunate Vale! exulting Hill! dear Plain!
2. Sonnet 71. While Summer Roses all their glory yield
3. Sonnet 58. Not the slow Hearse, where nod the sable plumes
4. Sonnet 15. The evening shines in May's luxuriant pride
5. Sonnet 11. How sweet to rove, from summer sun-beams veil'd

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