Sonnet to the Memory of Miss Maria Linley
So bends beneath the storm yon balmy flow'r,Whose spicy blossoms once perfum'd the gale;So press'd with tears reclines yon lily pale,Obedient to the rude and beating show'r.
Still is the LARK, that hov'ring o'er yon spray,With jocund carol usher'd in the morn;And mute the NIGHTINGALE, whose tender layMelted the feeling mind with sounds forlorn:
More sweet, MARIA, was thy plaintive strain!That strain is o'er; but mem'ry ne'er shall fade,When erst it cheer'd grey twilight's dreary shade,And charm'd the sorrow-stricken soul from pain;STILL, STILL, melodious maid, thy dulcet songShall breathe, immortal, on an ANGEL'S TONGUE!
Sign in to like, rate and collect poems, and keep track of what you've read.