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Title: Sonnet 94: All Is Not Right With Him, Who Ill Sustains
Author: Anna Seward [ More Titles by Seward]
All is not right with him, who ill sustains Retirement's silent hours.--Himself he flies, Perchance from that insipid equipoise, Which always with the hapless mind remains That feels no native bias; never gains One energy of will, that does not rise From some external cause, to which he hies From his own blank inanity.--When reigns, With a strong, cultur'd mind, this wretched hate To commune with himself, from thought that tells Of some lost joy, or dreaded stroke of Fate He struggles to escape;--or sense that dwells On secret guilt towards God, or Man, with weight Thrice dire, the self-exiling flight impels.
[The end] Anna Seward's poem: Sonnet 94: All Is Not Right With Him, Who Ill Sustains ________________________________________________
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