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The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson

including many pieces never before published. In Three Volumes

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SONNET. TO EVENING.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


115

SONNET. TO EVENING.

[_]

Written under a tree in the woods of St. Amand, in Flanders.

Sweet balmy hour!—dear to the pensive mind,
Oft have I watch'd thy dark and weeping shade,
Oft have I hail'd thee in the dewy glade,
And dropp'd a tear of sympathy refin'd.
When humming bees, hid in their golden bow'rs,
Sip the pure nectar of May's blushing rose,
Or faint with noon-day toils, their limbs repose,
In baths of essence stol'n from sunny flow'rs.
Oft do I seek thy shade, dear with'ring tree,
Sad emblem of my own disast'rous state;
Doom'd in the spring of life, alas! like thee,
To fade, and droop beneath the frowns of fate;
Like thee, may Heaven to me the meed bestow,
To shelter sorrow's child, and sooth the tear of woe.