Volume 3 — SONNET X. TO HONORA SNEYD. APRIL 1773.
Reading edition
Honora, should that cruel time arrive When ’gainst my truth thou should’st my errors poize, Scorning remembrance of our vanish’d joys; When for the love-warm looks, in which I live, But cold respect must greet me, that shall give No tender glance, no kind regretful sighs; When thou shalt pass me with averted eyes, Feigning thou see’st me not, to sting, and grieve, And sicken my sad heart, I could not bear Such dire eclipse of thy soul-cheering rays; I could not learn my struggling heart to tear From thy loved form, that thro’ my memory strays; Nor in the pale horizon of despair Endure the wintry and the darken’d days.