Sonnet XCIV.
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.
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"All is not right with him, who ill sustains..."
Exploring the themes of classic, Anna Seward delivers a powerful performance in "Sonnet XCIV."... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...