Poems by Mary Heron

Thank you for finding, entering and posting these selections of Heron's. But for your efforts I could not have read the verse of this always graceful, accomplished poet whose heroic couplets at their best rival Pope's.

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O SENSIBILITY ! luxurious woe,
Whose tears in streams of gen'rous pity flow;
Whose soft pathetic anguish can impart
A melancholy pleasure to the heart,
Descend from heaven, thou painful, pleasing guest,
And fix thy habitation in my breast,
There flow redundant, there spontaneous roll,
With social feelings quite absorb my soul:
Indifference ne'er thy transports shall erase,
A female softness is a female's praise;
E'en beauty ne'er so exquisite appears,
As through a flood of sympathising tears.
When meagre poverty, with want oppress'd,
O'ercome with grief, and every way distress'd,
Heaves the big sigh, abandon'd to despair,
O then, my soul, those throbbing sorrows share,
And from the little pittance fate has lent,
Thy mite contribute to restore content.
When some sad mourner, like the plaintive dove,
Repeats the piteous tale of hopeless love,
Then shall my breast the quick'ning impulse feel,
More sharp and poignant than the pointed steel;
With every varied note of woe comply,
Drop tear for tear, and echo sigh for sigh;
Nor social grief alone, but social joy,
With warm sensations shall my soul employ.
This soul by sympathy so gentle grown,
Shall make all human happiness its own;
With sorrow's children ever be distrest,
And with the blest superlatively blest.