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 58. Not the slow Hearse, where nod the sable plumes
2. Sonnet 25. Fortunate Vale! exulting Hill! dear Plain!
3. Sonnet 45. From Possibility's dim chaos sprung
4. Sonnet 59. Lady, each soft effusion of thy mind
5. Sonnet 2. The Future, and its gifts, alone we prize

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