Sweet Poetess! as pensive oft I stray,
Amid the wilds thy steps were wont to trace,
Thy charmful strains impart a touching grace,
To each rude scene, where thou hast waked thy lay.
Some sweet enchantment soothes my soul to rest,
As memory oft, thy tuneful verse recalls,
While evening's pearly tear unheeded falls
On every vermeil floret's fragrant breast.
Sweet Poetess! around thy honored brow,
A wreath of simple flowers, I fain would twine;
But when its blooms are intermixed with thine,
(Where Poesy's most cultured blossoms glow)
To thee, its wild buds could no praise impart,
Thy proudest trophy, is the feeling heart.
(fl. 1810; d. 1863)
Mary F. Johnson's Original Sonnets, and Other Poems, penned at Wroxhall
Farm, Isle of Wight, was published in 1810 by Longmans. In her introduc-
tion, she calls her poems “the first attempt of a secluded, unknown and inex-
perienced female” who wrote these “spontaneous effusion[s] of solitude and
leisure” without having thought about publication until a male friend en-
couraged her. In addition to Miltonic, Spenserian, and irregular sonnets, the
volume contains eight odes.A handwritten inscription in one copy says that
Johnson later married George Moncrieff, younger brother of Sir Harry
Moncrieff, and died in 1863, having lost a daughter, Georgiana, nine months
Loud, louder still, resounds the thundering peal;
The troubled deep reflects the vivid flash;
Their bounds with deepened roar the white waves dash,
And yon black, billowy clouds their slow course wheel.
Mournful, amid the elemental crash,
Their hollow, broken groans the raised winds deal,
The sighing copses, bending to their lash,
Scarcely the frighted, moaning herd conceal.
Let fear, within the closet's gloom, deter
Them whose weak hearts amid the tempest shrink:
May I, whene'er these awful scenes occur,
Stand on this clefted rock's indented brink;