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Poem by Charlotte Turner Smith


Sonnet 67. On Passing over a Dreary Tract


Swift fleet the billowy clouds along the sky,
Earth seems to shudder at the storm aghast;
While only beings as forlorn as I,
Court the chill horrors of the howling blast.
Even round yon crumbling walls, in search of food,
The ravenous Owl foregoes his evening flight,
And in his cave, within the deepest wood,
The Fox eludes the tempest of the night.
But to my heart congenial is the gloom
Which hides me from a World I wish to shun;
That scene where Ruin saps the mouldering tomb,
Suits with the sadness of a wretch undone.
Nor is the deepest shade, the keenest air,
Black as my fate, or cold as my despair. 



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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