Anna Seward (Анна Сьюард)

Sonnet 38. If he whose bosom with no transport swells

 WINTER.

If he whose bosom with no transport swells
    In vernal airs and hours commits the crime
    Of sullenness to Nature, 'gainst the Time,
    And its great Ruler, he alike rebels
Who seriousness and pious dread repels,
    And aweless gazes on the faded Clime,
    Dim in the gloom, and pale in the hoar rime
    That o'er the bleak and dreary prospect steals.—
Spring claims our tender, grateful, gay delight;
    Winter our sympathy and sacred fear;
    And sure the Hearts that pay not Pity's rite
O'er wide calamity; that careless hear
    Creation's wail, neglect, amid her blight,
    The solemn lesson of the ruin'd Year.

1. Sonnet 30. That song again!—its sounds my bosom thrill
2. Sonnet 28. O, Genius! does thy Sun-resembling beam
3. Sonnet 25. Fortunate Vale! exulting Hill! dear Plain!
4. Sonnet 52. Long has the pall of Midnight quench'd the scene
5. Sonnet 61. Disciple of the bright Aonian Maid

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