Poem by Anna Seward

Sonnet 27. See wither'd Winter, bending low his head

See wither'd Winter, bending low his head;
    His ragged locks stiff with the hoary dew;
    His eyes, like frozen lakes, of livid hue;
    His train, a sable cloud, with murky red
Streak'd.—Ah! behold his nitrous breathings shed
    Petrific death!—Lean, wailful Birds pursue,
    On as he sweeps o'er the dun lonely moor,
    Amid the battling blast of all the Winds,
That, while their sleet the climbing Sailor blinds,
    Lash the white surges to the sounding shore.
    So com'st thou, Winter, finally to doom
The sinking year; and with thy ice-dropt sprays,
    Cypress and yew, engarland her pale tomb,
    Her vanish'd hopes, and aye-departed days.

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 7. By Derwent's rapid stream as oft I stray'd
5. Sonnet 63. Thy Genius, Colebrooke, faithless to his charge

Print

1223 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version