Sonnet X. To Honora Sneyd.
HONORA, shou'd that cruel time arrive When 'gainst my truth thou should'st my errors poize, Scorning remembrance of our vanish'd joys; When for the love-warm looks, in which I live, But cold respect must greet me, that shall give No tender glance, no kind regretful sighs; When thou shalt pass me with averted eyes, Feigning thou see'st me not, to sting, and grieve, And sicken my sad heart, I cou'd not bear Such dire eclipse of thy soul-cheering rays; I cou'd not learn my struggling heart to tear From thy lov'd form, that thro' my memory strays; Nor in the pale horizon of Despair Endure the wintry and the darken'd days. April 1773.
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"HONORA, shou'd that cruel time arrive..."
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