Anna Seward (Анна Сьюард)

Sonnet 30. That song again!—its sounds my bosom thrill

That song again!—its sounds my bosom thrill,
    Breathe of past years, to all their joys allied;
    And, as the notes thro' my sooth'd spirits glide,
    Dear Recollection's choicest sweets distill,
Soft as the Morn's calm dew on yonder hill,
    When slants the Sun upon its grassy side,
    Tinging the brooks that many a mead divide
    With lines of gilded light; and blue, and still,
The distant lake stands gleaming in the vale.
    Sing, yet once more, that well-remember'd strain,
    Which oft made vocal every passing gale
In days long fled, in Pleasure's golden reign,
    The youth of chang'd Honora!—now it wears
    Her air—her smile—spells of the vanish'd years!

1. Sonnet 2. The Future, and its gifts, alone we prize
2. Sonnet 58. Not the slow Hearse, where nod the sable plumes
3. Sonnet 25. Fortunate Vale! exulting Hill! dear Plain!
4. Sonnet 24. Behold the Day an image of the Year!
5. Sonnet 41. Since dark December shrouds the transient day

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