(22 January 1788 – 19 April 1824 / London, England)

Sonnet, To Genevra

Thine eyes' blue tenderness, thy long fair hair,
And the wan lustre of thy features­ caught
From contemplation-where serenely wrought,
Seems Sorrow's softness charm'd from its despair--
Have thrown such speaking sadness in thine air
That--but I know thy blessed bosom fraught
With mines of unalloy'd and stainless thought--
I should have deem'd thee doom'd to earthly care.
With such an aspect, by his colours blent,
When from his beauty-breathing pen­cil born
(Except that thou hast nothing to repent),
The Magdalen of Guido saw the morn--
Such seem'st thou--but how much more excellent!
With nought Remorse can claim--nor Virtue scorn.

December 17, 1813.

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