Poem by Anna Seward

Sonnet 22. You, whose dull spirits feel not the fine glow

    SUBJECT CONTINUED.

You, whose dull spirits feel not the fine glow
    Enthusiasm breathes, no more of light
    Perceive ye in rapt Poesy, tho' bright
    In Fancy's richest colouring, than can flow
From jewel'd treasures in the central night
    Of their deep caves.—You have no Sun to show
    Their inborn radiance pure.—Go, Snarlers, go;
    Nor your defects of feeling, and of sight,
To charge upon the Poet thus presume,
    Ye lightless minds, whate'er of title proud,
    Scholar, or Sage, or Critic, ye assume,
Arraigning his high claims with censure loud,
    Or sickly scorn; yours, yours is all the cloud,
    Gems cannot sparkle in the midnight Gloom.

1. Sonnet 30. That song again!—its sounds my bosom thrill
2. Sonnet 25. Fortunate Vale! exulting Hill! dear Plain!
3. Sonnet 84. While one sere leaf, that parting Autumn gilds
4. Sonnet 28. O, Genius! does thy Sun-resembling beam
5. Sonnet 52. Long has the pall of Midnight quench'd the scene

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