Why, when I gaze on Phaon's beauteous eyes, <br />Why does each thought in wild disorder stray? <br />Why does each fainting faculty decay, <br />And my chill'd breast in throbbing tumults rise? <br />Mute, on the ground my Lyre neglected lies, <br />The Muse forgot, and lost the melting lay; <br />My down-cast looks, my faultering lips betray, <br />That stung by hopeless passion,--Sappho dies! <br />Now, on a bank of Cypress let me rest; <br />Come, tuneful maids, ye pupils of my care, <br />Come, with your dulcet numbers soothe my breast; <br />And, as the soft vibrations float on air, <br />Let pity waft my spirit to the blest, <br />To mock the barb'rous triumphs of despair!<br /><br />Mary Darby Robinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-iv-why-when-i-gaze/
