Poem by Anna Seward

Sonnet 55. Loud blew the North thro' April's pallid days

ON THE QUICK TRANSITION FROM WINTER TO SUMMER
               IN THE YEAR 1785.

Loud blew the North thro' April's pallid days,
    Nor grass the field, nor leaves the grove obtains,
    Nor crystal sun-beams, nor the gilded rains,
    That bless the hours of promise, gently raise
Warmth in the blood, without that fiery blaze,
    Which makes it boil along the throbbing veins.—
    Albion, displeas'd, her own lov'd Spring surveys
    Passing, with volant step, o'er russet plains;
Sees her to Summer's fierce embraces speed,
    Pale, and unrobed.—Faithless! thou well may'st hide
    Close in his sultry breast thy recreant head,
That did'st, neglecting thy distinguish'd Isle,
    In Winter's icy arms so long abide,
    While Britain vainly languish'd for thy smile!

1. Sonnet 30. That song again!—its sounds my bosom thrill
2. Sonnet 28. O, Genius! does thy Sun-resembling beam
3. Sonnet 52. Long has the pall of Midnight quench'd the scene
4. Sonnet 63. Thy Genius, Colebrooke, faithless to his charge
5. Sonnet 25. Fortunate Vale! exulting Hill! dear Plain!

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