Charlotte Smith

Sonnet LXVI: The Night-Flood Rakes

The night-flood rakes upon the stony shore; Along the rugged cliffs and chalky caves Mourns the hoarse Ocean, seeming to deplore All that are buried in his restless waves- Mined by corrosive tides, the

Written near a Port on a Dark Evening

Huge vapours brood above the clifted shore, Night on the ocean settles dark and mute, Save where is heard the repercussive roar Of drowsy billows on the rugged foot Of rocks remote; or still

Sonnet XLIII: The Unhappy Exile

The unhappy exile, whom his fates confine To the bleak coast of some unfriendly isle, Cold, barren, desart, where no harvests smile, But thirst and hunger on the rocks repine; When, from some promontory’s

The Emigrants: Book I

Scene, on the Cliffs to the Eastward of the Town of Brighthelmstone in Sussex. Time, a Morning in November, 1792. Slow in the Wintry Morn, the struggling light Throws a faint gleam upon the

Sonnet XLII: Composed During a Walk

The dark and pillowy cloud, the sallow trees, Seem o’er the ruins of the year to mourn; And, cold and hollow, the inconstant breeze Sobs thro’ the falling leaves and wither’d fern. O’er the

Sonnet III: To a Nightingale

Poor melancholy bird – that all night long Tell’st to the Moon, thy tale of tender woe; From what sad cause can such sweet sorrow flow, And whence this mournful melody of song? Thy

Sonnet LXIII: The Gossamer

O’er faded heath-flowers spun, or thorny furze, The filmy Gossamer is lightly spread; Waving in every sighing air that stirs, As Fairy fingers had entwined the thread: A thousand trembling orbs of lucid dew

The Emigrants: Book II

Scene, on an Eminence on one of those Downs, which afford to the South a view of the Sea; to the North of the Weald of Sussex. Time, an Afternoon in April, 1793. Long

Sonnet XLIV: Press'd by the Moon

Press’d by the Moon, mute arbitress of tides, While the loud equinox its power combines, The sea no more its swelling surge confines, But o’er the shrinking land sublimely rides. The wild blast, rising

Huge Vapours Brood Above the Clifted Shore

Huge vapours brood above the clifted shore, Night o’er the ocean settles, dark and mute, Save where is heard the repercussive roar Of drowsy billows, on the rugged foot Of rocks remote; or still

Sonnet XXXIV: Charm'd by Thy Suffrage

Charm’d by thy suffrage, shall I yet aspire (All inauspicious as my fate appears, By troubles darken’d, that encrease with years,) To guide the crayon, or to touch the lyre? Ah me! – the

Sonnet I

THE partial Muse, has from my earliest hours, Smil’d on the rugged path I’m doom’d to tread, And still with sportive hand has snatch’d wild flowers, To weave fantastic garlands for my head: But

Sonnet LXVII: 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

Sonnet XLVII: To Fancy

Thee, Queen of Shadows! shall I still invoke, Still love the scenes thy sportive pencil drew, When on mine eyes the early radiance broke Which shew’d the beauteous rather than the true! Alas! long

Sonnet VII: Sweet Poet of the Woods

Sweet poet of the woods – a long adieu! Farewel, soft minstrel of the early year! Ah! ’twill be long ere thou shalt sing anew, And pour thy music on the ‘night’s dull ear,’