Sonnet XXXVII. Autumn.

A poem by Anna Seward

Thro' changing Months a well-attemper'd Mind
Welcomes their gentle or terrific pace. -
When o'er retreating Autumn's golden grace
Tempestuous Winter spreads in every wind
Naked asperity, our musings find
Grandeur increasing, as the Glooms efface
Variety and glow. - Each solemn trace
Exalts the thoughts, from sensual joys refin'd.
Then blended in our rapt ideas rise
The vanish'd charms, that summer-suns reveal,
With all of desolation, that now lies
Dreary before us; - teach the Soul to feel
Awe in the Present, pleasure in the Past,
And to see vernal Morns in Hope's perspective cast.

October 27th, 1782.

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