Poem by Charlotte Turner Smith

Sonnet 16. From Petrarch (YE vales and woods! fair scenes of happier hours!)

YE vales and woods! fair scenes of happier hours!
Ye feather'd people, tenants of the grove!
And you, bright stream! befringed with shrubs and flowers,
Behold my grief, ye witnesses of love!
For ye beheld my infant passion rise,
And saw through years unchanged my faithful flame;
Now cold, in dust, the beauteous object lies,
And you, ye conscious scenes, are still the same!
While busy Memory still delights to dwell
On all the charms these bitter tears deplore,
And with a trembling hand describes too well
The angel form I shall behold no more!
To Heaven she's fled! and nought to me remains
But the pale ashes which her urn contains.

1. Sonnet 85. The Fairest Flowers Are Gone! For Tempests Fell
2. Sonnet 27. Sighing I See Yon Little Troop at Play
3. Sonnet 21. Supposed to Written by Werter
4. Sonnet 33. To the Naiad of the Arun
5. Sonnet 66. The Night-Flood Rakes

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