Anna Seward (Анна Сьюард)

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 36. Now on hills, rocks, and streams, and vales, and plains
2. Sonnet 65. Marcellus, since the ardors of my strain
3. Sonnet 56. What bashful wildness in those crystal eyes
4. Sonnet 38. If he whose bosom with no transport swells
5. Sonnet 53. The knell of Whitehead tolls!—his cares are past

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1683

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