Sonnet VII. To The Evening Rainbow.

Mild arch of promise! on the evening sky
    Thou shinest fair with many a lovely ray
Each in the other melting. Much mine eye
    Delights to linger on thee; for the day,
Changeful and many-weather'd, seem'd to smile
Flashing brief splendor thro' its clouds awhile,
    That deepen'd dark anon and fell in rain:
But pleasant is it now to pause, and view
Thy various tints of frail and watery hue,
    And think the storm shall not return again.
Such is the smile that Piety bestows
    On the good man's pale cheek, when he in peace
Departing gently from a world of woes,
    Anticipates the realm where sorrows cease.

Robert Southey

Robert Southey was an English poet, biographer, essayist, and historian. Born on August 12, 1774, he was associated with the Romantic school of poetry and is well known for his works such as 'The Story of the Three Bears', which is the origin of the famous Goldilocks tale. He served as Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom from 1813 until his death in 1843. His prolific output included not just poetry, but also significant biographical and historical works.

Robert Southey

Sonnet X.

Robert Southey, Simple Poetry

The Surgeon's Warning.

Robert Southey, Simple Poetry

Eclogue VI. The Ruined Cottage.

Robert Southey, Simple Poetry

To Mary Wollstonecraft.

Robert Southey, Simple Poetry

English

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Sonnet IX.

Fair is the rising morn when o'er the sky
    The orient sun expands his roseate ray,
And lovely to the Bard's enthusiast eye
    Fades the meek radiance of departing day;
But fairer is the smile of one we love,
    Than all the scenes in Nature's ample sway.
And sweeter than the music of the grove,
    The voice that bids us welcome. Such delight
    EDITH! is mine, escaping to thy sight
From the hard durance of the empty throng.
    Too swiftly then towards the silent night
Ye Hours of happiness! ye speed along,
    Whilst I, from all the World's cold cares apart,
    Pour out the feelings of my burthen'd heart.

Robert Southey

Sonnet X.

How darkly o'er yon far-off mountain frowns
    The gather'd tempest! from that lurid cloud
    The deep-voiced thunders roll, aweful and loud
Tho' distant; while upon the misty downs
Fast falls in shadowy streaks the pelting rain.
    I never saw so terrible a storm!
Perhaps some way-worn traveller in vain
    Wraps his torn raiment round his shivering form
Cold even as Hope within him! I the while
Pause me in sadness tho' the sunbeams smile
    Cheerily round me. Ah that thus my lot
Might be with Peace and Solitude assign'd,
    Where I might from some little quiet cot,
Sigh for the crimes and miseries of mankind!

Robert Southey

Sonnet VIII.

With many a weary step, at length I gain
    Thy summit, Lansdown; and the cool breeze plays,
    Gratefully round my brow, as hence the gaze
Returns to dwell upon the journeyed plain.
    'Twas a long way and tedious! to the eye
Tho fair the extended vale, and fair to view
The falling leaves of many a faded hue,
    That eddy in the wild gust moaning by.
Even so it fared with Life! in discontent
Restless thro' Fortune's mingled scenes I went,
    Yet wept to think they would return no more!
But cease fond heart in such sad thoughts to roam,
For surely thou ere long shall reach thy home,
    And pleasant is the way that lies before.

Robert Southey

Sonnet VI

                    to a brook near the village of Corston.

    As thus I bend me o'er thy babbling stream
        And watch thy current, Memory's hand pourtrays
        The faint form'd scenes of the departed days,
    Like the far forest by the moon's pale beam
    Dimly descried yet lovely. I have worn
        Upon thy banks the live-long hour away,
        When sportive Childhood wantoned thro' the day,
    Joy'd at the opening splendour of the morn,
    Or as the twilight darken'd, heaved the sigh
        Thinking of distant home; as down my cheek
        At the fond thought slow stealing on, would speak
    The silent eloquence of the full eye.
    Dim are the long past days, yet still they please
As thy soft sounds half heard, borne on the inconstant breeze...

Robert Southey

Sonnet LXXVII.

O! hast thou seen a vernal Morning bright
    Gem every bank and trembling leaf with dews,
    Tinging the green fields with her amber hues,
    Changing the leaden streams to lines of light?
Then seen dull Clouds, that shed untimely night,
    Roll envious on, and every ray suffuse,
    Till the chill'd Scenes their early beauty lose,
    And faint, and colourless, no more invite
The glistening gaze of Joy? - 'Twas emblem just
    Of my youth's sun, on which deep shadows fell,
    Spread from the PALL OF FRIENDS; and Grief's loud gust
Resistless, oft wou'd wasted tears compel:
    Yet let me hope, that on my darken'd days
    Science, and pious Trust, may shed pervading rays.

Anna Seward

Sonnet III.

    Not to thee Bedford mournful is the tale
        Of days departed. Time in his career
        Arraigns not thee that the neglected year
    Has past unheeded onward. To the vale
    Of years thou journeyest. May the future road
        Be pleasant as the past! and on my friend
        Friendship and Love, best blessings! still attend,
    'Till full of days he reach the calm abode
    Where Nature slumbers. Lovely is the age
        Of Virtue. With such reverence we behold
        The silver hairs, as some grey oak grown old
    That whilome mock'd the rushing tempest's rage
    Now like the monument of strength decayed
With rarely-sprinkled leaves casting a trembling shade.

Robert Southey