Poem by William Lisle Bowles

Sonnet 9. O Poverty!

O Poverty! though from thy haggard eye,
Thy cheerless mein, of every charm bereft.
Thy brow, that hope's last traces long have left,
Vain Fortune's feeble sons with terror fly;
Thy rugged paths with pleasure I attend;—
For Fancy, that with fairest dreams can bless;
And Patience, in the Pall of Wretchedness,
Sad-smiling, as the ruthless storms descend;
And Piety, forgiving every wrong,
And meek Content, whose griefs no more rebel;
And Genius, warbling sweet her saddest song;
And Pity, list'ning to the poor man's knell,
Long banish'd from the world's insulting throng;
With Thee, and loveliest Melancholy, dwell.

1. Sonnet 2. Written at Bamborough Castle
2. Sonnet 11. Written at Ostend
3. Cadland, Southampton River
4. Picture of an Old Man
5. Banwell Hill

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