Poem by Charlotte Turner Smith

Sonnet 5. To the South Downs

AH! hills beloved!--where once, a happy child,
Your beechen shades, 'your turf, your flowers among,'
I wove your blue-bells into garlands wild,
And woke your echoes with my artless song.
Ah! hills beloved!--your turf, your flowers remain;
But can they peace to this sad breast restore,
For one poor moment soothe the sense of pain,
And teach a breaking heart to throb no more?
And you, Aruna!--in the vale below,
As to the sea your limpid waves you bear
Can you one kind Lethean cup bestow,
To drink a long oblivion to my care?
Ah! no!--when all, e'en Hope's last ray is gone,
There's no oblivion--but in death alone! 

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

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