Archive for October 27th, 2013

Sunday, 27 October 2013

Sonnet to Ingratitude by Mary Darby Robinson

He that’s ungrateful, has no guilt but one;
All other crimes may pass for virtues in him.

I could have borne affliction’s sharpest thorn;
The sting of malice–poverty’s deep wound;
The sneers of vulgar pride, the idiot’s scorn;
Neglected Love, false Friendship’s treach’rous sound;

I could, with patient smile, extract the dart
Base calumny had planted in my heart;
The fangs of envy; agonizing pain;
ALL, ALL, nor should my steady soul complain:

E’en had relentless FATE, with cruel pow’r,
Darken’d the sunshine of each youthful day;
While from my path she snatch’d each transient flow’r.
Not one soft sigh my sorrow should betray;
But where INGRATITUDE’S fell poisons pour,
HOPE shrinks subdued–and LIFE’S BEST JOYS DECAY.

From: Robinson, Mrs M, Poems, 1791, J Bell: London, p. 176.

Date: 1791

By: Mary Darby Robinson (1758-1800)