Sonnet by Mary Matilda Betham

Urge me no more! nor think, because I seem
Tame and unsorrowirig in the world’s rude strife,
That anguish and resentment have not life
Within the heart that ye so quiet deem:
In this forc’d stillness only, I sustain
My thought and feeling, wearied out with pain!
Floating as ’twere upon some wild abyss
Whence, silent Patience, bending o’er the brink,
Would rescue them with strong and steady hand,
And join again, by that connecting link,
Which now is broken:—O, respect her care!
Respect her in this fearful self-command!
No moment teems with greater woe than this,
Should she but pause, or falter in despair!

From: Betham, Matilda, Poems, 1808, J. Hatchard: London, p. 48.
(https://archive.org/details/poemsbymatildab00bethgoog)

Date: 1808

By: Mary Matilda Betham (1776-1852)

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