Poem by Anna Seward

Sonnet 92. Behold that Tree, in Autumn's dim decay

Behold that Tree, in Autumn's dim decay,
    Stript by the frequent, chill, and eddying Wind;
    Where yet some yellow, lonely leaves we find
    Lingering and trembling on the naked spray,
Twenty, perchance, for millions whirl'd away!
    Emblem, alas! too just, of Humankind!
    Vain Man expects longevity, design'd
    For few indeed; and their protracted day
What is it worth that Wisdom does not scorn?
    The blasts of Sickness, Care, and Grief appal,
    That laid the Friends in dust, whose natal morn
Rose near their own;—and solemn is the call;—
    Yet, like those weak, deserted leaves forlorn,
    Shivering they cling to life, and fear to fall!

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

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