Sonnets by Susan Evance, Volume Two

When wintry tempests agitate the deep

Blakenham! although thy bounded scenes

O take me from the hated haunts of man

Ah no--enthusiasm’s hour is fled

Why do I muse on moments that are past

Now wild the blasts of Autumn sweep along

Where are the tearful smile of youthful Spring

Did I not see thee ope thy lovely eye

Ye rocks sublime, whose tops depending o’er

Yon oak has brav’d full many a wintry storm

Romantic shades, by nature wildly drest!

Contentment! I have left the lowly spot

O that religion in that breast did dwell!