Sonnet L (In every breast Affection fires) by Anna Seward

Sonnet L

In every breast Affection fires, there dwells
A secret consciousness to what degree
They are themselves belov’d. – We hourly see
Th’ involuntary proof, that either quells,
Or ought to quell false hopes, – or sets us free
From pain’d distrust; – but, O, the misery!
Weak Self-Delusion timidly repels
The lights obtrusive – shrinks from all that tells
Unwelcome truths, and vainly seeks repose
For startled Fondness, in the opiate balm,
Of kind profession, tho’, perchance, it flows
To hush Complaint – O! in Belief’s clear calm,
Or ‘mid the lurid clouds of Doubt, we find
LOVE rise the Sun, or Comet of the Mind.

Anna Seward
(1742-1809)
Sonnet L.
(In every breast Affection fires)

• fleursdumal.nl magazine

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