Poem by Anna Seward

Sonnet 92. Behold that Tree, in Autumn's dim decay

Behold that Tree, in Autumn's dim decay,
    Stript by the frequent, chill, and eddying Wind;
    Where yet some yellow, lonely leaves we find
    Lingering and trembling on the naked spray,
Twenty, perchance, for millions whirl'd away!
    Emblem, alas! too just, of Humankind!
    Vain Man expects longevity, design'd
    For few indeed; and their protracted day
What is it worth that Wisdom does not scorn?
    The blasts of Sickness, Care, and Grief appal,
    That laid the Friends in dust, whose natal morn
Rose near their own;—and solemn is the call;—
    Yet, like those weak, deserted leaves forlorn,
    Shivering they cling to life, and fear to fall!

1. Sonnet 58. Not the slow Hearse, where nod the sable plumes
2. Sonnet 25. Fortunate Vale! exulting Hill! dear Plain!
3. Sonnet 71. While Summer Roses all their glory yield
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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