Poem by Charlotte Turner Smith

Sonnet 61. ILL-Omen'd Bird! Whose Cries Portentous Float

Supposed to have been written in America.

ILL-omen'd bird! whose cries portentous float
O'er yon savannah with the mournful wind;
While, as the Indian hears your piercing note,
Dark dread of future evil fills his mind;
Wherefore with early lamentation break
The dear delusive visions of repose?
Why from so short felicity awake
My wounded senses to substantial woes?
O'er my sick soul thus rous'd from transient rest,
Pale Superstition sheds her influence drear,
And to my shuddering fancy would suggest
Thou com'st to speak of ev'ry woe I fear,
Ah! Reason little o'er the soul prevails,
When, from ideal ill, the enfeebled spirit fails! 

1. Sonnet 85. The Fairest Flowers Are Gone! For Tempests Fell
2. Sonnet 43. The Unhappy Exile
3. Sonnet 33. To the Naiad of the Arun
4. Sonnet 51. Supposed to have been written in the Hebrides
5. Sonnet 13. From Petrarch (OH! place me where the burning moon)

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