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180
SONNET VI.
['Twere well, methinks, in an indignant mood]
1796.
'Twere well, methinks, in an indignant mood,
When the heart droops unfriended, when man-kind,
With their cold smiles, have duped thy honest mind,
On the wet heath to stray, while dimly brood
The gathered grey-mists on the distant hill:
Drear should the prospect be, dreary and wide,
No second living one be there espied,
None save thyself; then would thy soul be still,
Curbing its sorrows with a proud despair!
Then wouldst thou tread thy path with firmer pace,
Nor let one scowl on thy resolved face
Blab to the elements thy puny care;
But, soothed to think that solitude can bless,
Muse on the world with lofty quietness.
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