Poem by Anna Seward

Sonnet 38. If he whose bosom with no transport swells

 WINTER.

If he whose bosom with no transport swells
    In vernal airs and hours commits the crime
    Of sullenness to Nature, 'gainst the Time,
    And its great Ruler, he alike rebels
Who seriousness and pious dread repels,
    And aweless gazes on the faded Clime,
    Dim in the gloom, and pale in the hoar rime
    That o'er the bleak and dreary prospect steals.—
Spring claims our tender, grateful, gay delight;
    Winter our sympathy and sacred fear;
    And sure the Hearts that pay not Pity's rite
O'er wide calamity; that careless hear
    Creation's wail, neglect, amid her blight,
    The solemn lesson of the ruin'd Year.

1. Sonnet 41. Since dark December shrouds the transient day
2. Sonnet 32. Behold him now his genuine colours wear
3. Sonnet 89. Yon late but gleaming Moon, in hoary light
4. Sonnet 85. March, tho' the Hours of promise with bright ray
5. Sonnet 36. Now on hills, rocks, and streams, and vales, and plains

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