Poem by Anna Seward

Sonnet 97. Thou silent Door of our eternal sleep

    TO A COFFIN-LID.

Thou silent Door of our eternal sleep,
    Sickness, and pain, debility, and woes,
    All the dire train of ills Existence knows,
    Thou shuttest out FOR EVER!—Why then weep
This fix'd tranquillity,—so long!—so deep!
    In a dear Father's clay-cold Form?—where rose
    No energy, enlivening Health bestows,
    Thro' many a tedious year, that us'd to creep
In languid deprivation; while the flame
    Of intellect, resplendent once confess'd,
    Dark, and more dark, each passing day became.
Now that angelic lights the Soul invest,
    Calm let me yield to thee a joyless Frame,
    Thou silent Door of everlasting Rest.

1. Sonnet 75. He found her not;—yet much the Poet found
2. Sonnet 1. When Life's realities the Soul perceives
3. Sonnet 20. Ah! might I range each hallow'd bower and glade
4. Sonnet 85. March, tho' the Hours of promise with bright ray
5. Sonnet 78. Sophia tempts me to her social walls

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