Poem by Charlotte Turner Smith

On the Aphorism

'L'Amitié est l'Amour sans ailes.'

FRIENDSHIP, as some sage poet sings,
Is chasten'd Love, depriv'd of wings,
Without all wish or power to wander;
Less volatile, but not less tender:
Yet says the proverbs­'Sly and slow
'Love creeps, even where he cannot go;'
To clip his pinions then is vain,
His old propensities remain;

And she, who years beyond fifteen,
Has counted twenty, may have seen
How rarely unplum'd Love will stay;
He flies not­but he coolly walks away. 

1. Sonnet 85. The Fairest Flowers Are Gone! For Tempests Fell
2. Sonnet 43. The Unhappy Exile
3. Sonnet 8. To Spring
4. Sonnet 27. Sighing I See Yon Little Troop at Play
5. Sonnet 13. From Petrarch (OH! place me where the burning moon)

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