Poem by Charlotte Turner Smith

Sonnet 39. To Night

 From the Same.

I LOVE thee, mournful, sober-suited Night!
When the faint moon, yet lingering in her wane,
And veil'd in clouds, with pale uncertain light
Hangs o'er the waters of the restless main.
In deep depression sunk, the enfeebled mind
Will to the deaf cold elements complain,
And tell the embosom'd grief, however vain,
To sullen surges and the viewless wind.
Though no repose on thy dark breast I find,
I still enjoy thee--cheerless as thou art;
For in thy quiet gloom the exhausted heart
Is calm, though wretched; hopeless, yet resigned.
While to the winds and waves its sorrows given,
May reach--though lost on earth--the ear of Heaven!

1. Sonnet 9. Blest is yon shepherd, on the turf reclined
2. Sonnet 33. To the Naiad of the Arun
3. Sonnet 51. Supposed to have been written in the Hebrides
4. Sonnet 16. From Petrarch (YE vales and woods! fair scenes of happier hours!)
5. Sonnet 58. The Glow-Worm

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