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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355526" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Verses IV</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">On the Death of the same Lady, written in Sept. 1794. <br>LIKE a poor ghost the night I seek;<br>Its hollow winds repeat my sighs;<br>The cold dews mingle on my cheek<br>With tears that wander from mine eyes.<br>The thorns that still my couch molest,<br>Have robb'd these heavy eyes of sleep;<br>But though deprived of tranquil rest,<br>I here at last am free to weep.<br>Twelve times the moon, that rises red<br>O'er yon tall wood of shadowy pine,<br>Has fill'd her orb, since low was laid<br>My Harriet! that sweet form of thine!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">While each sad month, as slow it pass'd,<br>Brought some new sorrow to deplore;<br>Some grief more poignant than the last,<br>But thou canst calm those griefs no more.<br>No more thy friendship soothes to rest<br>This wearied spirit tempest-toss'd;<br>The cares that weigh upon my breast <br>Are doubly felt since thou art lost.<br>Bright visions of ideal grace<br>That the young poet's dreams inflame,<br>Were not more lovely than thy face;<br>Were not more perfect than thy frame.<br>Wit, that no sufferings could impair,<br>Was thine, and thine those mental powers<br>Of force to chase the fiends that tear<br>From Fancy's hands her budding flowers.<br>O'er what, my angel friend, thou wert,<br>Dejected Memory loves to mourn;<br>Regretting still that tender heart,<br>Now withering in a distant urn.<br>But ere that wood of shadowy pine<br>Twelve times shall yon full orb behold,<br>This sickening heart, that bleeds for thine,<br>My Harriet!--may like thine be cold!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charlotte+Smith">Charlotte Smith</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355526" data-title="Verses IV de Charlotte Smith" data-description="On the Death of the same Lady, written in Sept. 1794. LIKE a poor ghost the night I seek; Its hollow winds repeat my sighs; The cold dews mingle on my cheek With tears that wander from mine eyes. The thorns that still my couch molest, Have robb'd..."></div> </div> </div>
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