Poem by Anna Seward

Sonnet 30. That song again!—its sounds my bosom thrill

That song again!—its sounds my bosom thrill,
    Breathe of past years, to all their joys allied;
    And, as the notes thro' my sooth'd spirits glide,
    Dear Recollection's choicest sweets distill,
Soft as the Morn's calm dew on yonder hill,
    When slants the Sun upon its grassy side,
    Tinging the brooks that many a mead divide
    With lines of gilded light; and blue, and still,
The distant lake stands gleaming in the vale.
    Sing, yet once more, that well-remember'd strain,
    Which oft made vocal every passing gale
In days long fled, in Pleasure's golden reign,
    The youth of chang'd Honora!—now it wears
    Her air—her smile—spells of the vanish'd years!

1. Sonnet 41. Since dark December shrouds the transient day
2. Sonnet 32. Behold him now his genuine colours wear
3. Sonnet 65. Marcellus, since the ardors of my strain
4. Sonnet 89. Yon late but gleaming Moon, in hoary light
5. Sonnet 85. March, tho' the Hours of promise with bright ray

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