Sonnet XII.
Chill'd by unkind Honora's alter'd eye, "Why droops my heart with fruitless woes forlorn," Thankless for much of good? - what thousands, born To ceaseless toil beneath this wintry sky, Or to brave deathful Oceans surging high, Or fell Disease's fever'd rage to mourn, How blest to them wou'd seem my destiny! How dear the comforts my rash sorrows scorn! - Affection is repaid by causeless hate! A plighted love is chang'd to cold disdain! Yet suffer not thy wrongs to shroud thy fate, But turn, my Soul, to blessings which remain; And let this truth the wise resolve create, THE HEART ESTRANGED NO ANGUISH CAN REGAIN. July 1773.
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"Chill'd by unkind Honora's alter'd eye,..."
This evocative piece by Anna Seward, titled "Sonnet XII.", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...