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Poem by Charlotte Turner Smith


Sonnet 4. The Moon


Queen of the silver bow, by thy pale beam
Alone and pensive I delight to stray,
And watch thy shadow trembling in the stream,
Or mark the floating clouds that cross thy way.
And while I gaze, thy mild and placid light
Sheds a soft calm upon my troubled breast;
And oft I think, fair planet of the night,
That in thy orb the wretched may have rest;
The sufferers of the earth perhaps may go,
Released by death, to thy benignant sphere;
And the sad children of despair and woe,
Forget in thee, their cup of sorrow here.
Oh, that I soon may reach thy world serene,
Poor wearied pilgrim in this toiling scene. 



Charlotte Turner Smith


Charlotte Turner Smith's other poems:
  1. Sonnet 32. To Melancholy. Written on the Banks of the Arun, October, 1785
  2. Sonnet 26. To the River Arun
  3. Sonnet 55. The Return of the Nightingale. Written in May, 1791
  4. Sonnet 15. From Petrarch (WHERE the green leaves exclude the summer beam)
  5. Sonnet 63. The Gossamer


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