Анна Сьюард (Anna Seward)

Sonnet 18. Ceas'd is the rain; but heavy drops yet fall

 AN EVENING IN NOVEMBER, 
 WHICH HAD BEEN STORMY, GRADUALLY CLEARING UP,
 IN A MOUNTAINOUS COUNTRY.

Ceas'd is the rain; but heavy drops yet fall
    From the drench'd roof;—yet murmurs the sunk wind
    Round the dim hills; can yet a passage find
    Whistling thro' yon cleft rock, and ruin'd wall.
The swoln and angry torrents heard, appal,
    Tho' distant.—A few stars, emerging kind,
    Shed their green, trembling beams.—With lustre small,
    The moon, her swiftly-passing clouds behind,
Glides o'er that shaded hill.—Now blasts remove
    The shadowing clouds, and on the mountain's brow,
    Full-orb'd, she shines.—Half sunk within its cove
Heaves the lone boat, with gulphing sound;—and lo!
    Bright rolls the settling lake, and brimming rove
    The vale's blue rills, and glitter as they flow.

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