Poem by Anna Seward

Sonnet 95. On the damp margin of the sea-beat shore

On the damp margin of the sea-beat shore
    Lonely at eve to wander;—or reclin'd
    Beneath a rock, what time the rising wind
    Mourns o'er the waters, and, with solemn roar,
Vast billows into caverns surging pour,
    And back recede alternate; while combin'd
    Loud shriek the sea-fowls, harbingers assign'd,
    Clamorous and fearful, of the stormy hour;
To listen with deep thought those awful sounds;
    Gaze on the boiling, the tumultuous waste,
    Or promontory rude, or craggy mounds
Staying the furious main, delight has cast
    O'er my rapt spirit, and my thrilling heart,
    Dear as the softer joys green vales impart.

1. Sonnet 45. From Possibility's dim chaos sprung
2. Sonnet 58. Not the slow Hearse, where nod the sable plumes
3. Sonnet 25. Fortunate Vale! exulting Hill! dear Plain!
4. Sonnet 59. Lady, each soft effusion of thy mind
5. Sonnet 99. Remorseless Winter! in thy iron reign

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