Poem by Anna Seward

Sonnet 28. O, Genius! does thy Sun-resembling beam

O, Genius! does thy Sun-resembling beam
    To the internal eyes of Man display
    In clearer prospect, the momentous way
    That leads to peace? Do they not rather seem
Dazzled by lustres in continual stream,
    Till night they find in such excessive day?
    Art thou not prone, with too intense a ray,
    To gild the hope improbable, the dream
Of fancied good?—or bid the sigh upbraid
    Imaginary evils, and involve
    All real sorrow in a darker shade?
To fond credulity, to rash resolve
    Dost thou not prompt, till reason's sacred aid
    And fair discretion in thy fires dissolve?

1. Sonnet 65. Marcellus, since the ardors of my strain
2. Sonnet 56. What bashful wildness in those crystal eyes
3. Sonnet 53. The knell of Whitehead tolls!—his cares are past
4. Sonnet 73. He who a tender long-lov'd Wife survives
5. Sonnet 38. If he whose bosom with no transport swells

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