WHOE'ER thou art, whose soul-enchanting song <br />Steals on the sullen ear of pensive woe; <br />To whom the sounds of melody belong, <br />Sounds, that can more than human bliss bestow; <br /> <br />Like the wak'd God of day, whose rays pervade <br />The spangled veil of night, and fling their fires <br />O'er the cold bosom of the em'rald glade, <br />While bath'd in tears, the virgin orb retires. <br /> <br />Thy glowing verse illumes my path of care, <br />And warms each torpid fibre of my heart, <br />And tho' my MUSE exults thy smiles to share, <br />She feels the force of thy superior art; <br />YET, shall she proudly own her timid lays, <br />The cherish'd darlings of thy ENVIED PRAISE.<br /><br />Mary Darby Robinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-to-amicus/
