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Charlotte Turner Smith (Шарлотта Смит)


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's other poems:
  1. Sonnet 63. The Gossamer
  2. Inscription
  3. Sonnet 3. To a Nightingale
  4. Sonnet 42. Composed During a Walk
  5. Sonnet 7. Sweet Poet of the Woods


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