Poem by Anna Seward

Sonnet 100. Lyre of the Sonnet, that full many a time

 WRITTEN DECEMBER 1790.

Lyre of the Sonnet, that full many a time
    Amus'd my lassitude, and sooth'd my pains,
    When graver cares forbade the lengthen'd strains,
    To thy brief bound, and oft-returning chime
A long farewell!—the splendid forms of Rhyme
    When Grief in lonely orphanism reigns,
    Oppress the drooping Soul.—Death's dark domains
    Throw mournful shadows o'er the Aonian clime;
For in their silent bourne my filial bands
    Lie all dissolv'd;—and swiftly-wasting pour
    From my frail glass of life, health's sparkling sands.
Sleep then, my Lyre, thy tuneful tasks are o'er,
    Sleep! for my heart bereav'd, and listless hands
    Wake with rapt touch thy glowing strings no more!

1. Sonnet 75. He found her not;—yet much the Poet found
2. Sonnet 44. Rapt Contemplation, bring thy waking dreams
3. Sonnet 90. My hour is not yet come!—these burning eyes
4. Sonnet 85. March, tho' the Hours of promise with bright ray
5. Sonnet 77. O! hast thou seen a vernal Morning bright

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