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Sonnets

by Edward Moxon
Moxon, Edward (1801-1858)

collapse sectionI. 
[PART FIRST.]
  
[dedication]
 I. 
SONNET I.
 II. 
SONNET II.
 III. 
SONNET III.
 IV. 
SONNET IV.
 V. 
SONNET V.
 VI. 
SONNET VI.—To a Bird.
 VII. 
SONNET VII.
 VIII. 
SONNET VIII.
 IX. 
SONNET IX.—Solace derived from Books.
 X. 
SONNET X.
 XI. 
SONNET XI.
 XII. 
SONNET XII.
 XIII. 
SONNET XIII.
 XIV. 
SONNET XIV.
 XV. 
SONNET XV.—To the Worldlings.
 XVI. 
SONNET XVI.
 XVII. 
SONNET XVII.
 XVIII. 
SONNET XVIII.
 XIX. 
SONNET XIX. ON AN OAK, IN THE PARISH OF CHESHUNT, SAID TO HAVE BEEN PLANTED IN 1066, BY SIR THEODORE GODFREY, OR GOFFBY, WHO CAME OVER WITH WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR.
 XX. 
SONNET XX.
 XXI. 
SONNET XXI.
 XXII. 
SONNET XXII.
 XXIII. 
SONNET XXIII.
 XXIV. 
SONNET XXIV.
 XXV. 
SONNET XXV.
 XXVI. 
SONNET XXVI.
 XXVII. 
SONNET XXVII.
 XXVIII. 
SONNET XXVIII.
 XXIX. 
SONNET XXIX.
 XXX. 
SONNET XXX.
 XXXI. 
SONNET XXXI.
 XXXII. 
SONNET XXXII.
  
TO THE MUSE.
collapse sectionII. 
PART SECOND.
  
[dedication]
 I. 
SONNET I.
 II. 
SONNET II.
 III. 
SONNET III.
 IV. 
SONNET IV.
 V. 
SONNET V.
 VI. 
SONNET VI.
 VII. 
SONNET VII.
 VIII. 
SONNET VIII.
 IX. 
SONNET IX.
 X. 
SONNET X.
 XI. 
SONNET XI.
 XII. 
SONNET XII.
 XIII. 
SONNET XIII.
 XIV. 
SONNET XIV.
 XV. 
SONNET XV.
 XVI. 
SONNET XVI.
 XVII. 
SONNET XVII. WRITTEN IN PERE LA CHAISE, ON THE SPOT WHERE MARSHAL NEY IS BURIED.
 XVIII. 
SONNET XVIII.
 XIX. 
SONNET XIX. ABELARD AND HELOISE.
 XX. 
SONNET XX.
 XXI. 
SONNET XXI. (WRITTEN AT SAINT CLOUD.)
 XXII. 
SONNET XXII.
 XXIII. 
SONNET XXIII.
 XXIV. 
SONNET XXIV.
 XXV. 
SONNET XXV.
 XXVI. 
SONNET XXVI. (OCCASIONED BY THE DEBATE ON THE MOTION FOR A REVISION OF THE PENSION LIST.)
 XXVII. 
SONNET XXVII.
 XXVIII. 
SONNET XXVIII.

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11

SONNET V.

[Whene'er I linger, Thomson, near thy tomb]

Whene'er I linger, Thomson, near thy tomb,
Where Thamis urges his majestic way,
And the Muse loves at twilight hour to stray,
I think how in thy theme all seasons bloom;
And praise thy tuneful Brother, who preferr'd,
'Fore all the vaults in Westminster's proud pile,
A grave in Twick'nam's unpretending aisle.
What heart so cold, that of thy fame has heard,
And pauses not to gaze upon each scene
That was familiar to thy raptur'd view?
Those walks belov'd by thee while I pursue,
Musing upon the years that intervene,
Methinks, as eve descends, a Hymn of praise
To thee, their Bard, the Sister Seasons raise.
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