Poem by Anna Seward

Sonnet 38. If he whose bosom with no transport swells

 WINTER.

If he whose bosom with no transport swells
    In vernal airs and hours commits the crime
    Of sullenness to Nature, 'gainst the Time,
    And its great Ruler, he alike rebels
Who seriousness and pious dread repels,
    And aweless gazes on the faded Clime,
    Dim in the gloom, and pale in the hoar rime
    That o'er the bleak and dreary prospect steals.—
Spring claims our tender, grateful, gay delight;
    Winter our sympathy and sacred fear;
    And sure the Hearts that pay not Pity's rite
O'er wide calamity; that careless hear
    Creation's wail, neglect, amid her blight,
    The solemn lesson of the ruin'd Year.

1. Sonnet 75. He found her not;—yet much the Poet found
2. Sonnet 90. My hour is not yet come!—these burning eyes
3. Sonnet 78. Sophia tempts me to her social walls
4. Sonnet 44. Rapt Contemplation, bring thy waking dreams
5. Sonnet 1. When Life's realities the Soul perceives

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