Sonnet: "Dear to my Soul is chill November's breeze" William Hone Kyle Grimes

edited for publication on the William Hone BioText.

Document prepared from the published version of the poem that appeared in The Monthly Visitor and Pocket Companion (London, 1797). The poem appears under the name "W. S. Hone." See p. 98 in the poetry section entitled "Parnassian Garland." There is also a MS copy in Hone's hand in the Huntington Library. This copy is very neatly handwritten and alone on the page. The Huntington MS was clearly copied sometime after 1819 as it bears reference to The Political House that Jack Built.
SonnetThis sonnet first appeared over the signature "W. S. Hone," in The Monthly Visitor and Pocket Companion (London, 1797, p. 98 in the Poetry section entitled "Panassian Garland"). If, as seems likely, the poem was written in 1796 or 97, then it was probably one product of Hone's years spent in the vicinity of Chatham where he met his friend John Venning and where he seems to have enjoyed what little free time he had outside of the city. The sonnet itself is reminiscent of the work of Bowles or (especially) Charlotte Smith. In the original publication the sonnet has only the generic title, "Sonnet." A Huntington Library copy in Hone's hand, obviously produced much later (after 1819), bears the more extended title "Sonnet by the Author of the Political House that Jack Built". The present text is taken from the original 1797 publication. The few differences between the two are indicated in the notes. By W. S. Hone.The Huntington MS is called "Sonnet: by the Author of the Political House that Jack Built." Dear to my soulHuntington: "Soul" is chill November's breeze-- The Wind which sighsHuntington: "that sighs" along the lonely walls, The Tempest's blast which baresHuntington: "that bares" the sapless trees, And the low rustling of each leaf that falls. Then, when pale Ev'ning throws her mantle o'er The clear bright prospects of declining day, I frequent roam, till past the midnight hour, And to its secret influence homage pay. Oft when the moon rides in the cloudless sky, I climb the rocky mountain's shelvyHuntington: "shelving" side And watch the fish-boats flitting sail pass by, While roaring rolls beneath the foaming tide: These scenes assuage the pain of inward grief, Draw forth the silent tear, and give my heart relief.
25th August, 1797.