Charlotte Smith

(4 May 1749 – 28 October 1806 / London)

Charlotte Smith Poems

121. Verses I 4/15/2010
122. Verses Ii 4/15/2010
123. Verses Iii 4/15/2010
124. Verses Iv 4/15/2010
125. Verses, On The Death Of The Same Lady 4/15/2010
126. Written Near A Port On A Dark Evening 1/1/2004
Best Poem of Charlotte Smith

Sonnet Iii: To A Nightingale

Poor melancholy bird---that all night long
Tell'st to the Moon, thy tale of tender woe;
From what sad cause can such sweet sorrow flow,
And whence this mournful melody of song?

Thy poet's musing fancy would translate
What mean the sounds that swell thy little breast,
When still at dewy eve thou leav'st thy nest,
Thus to the listening night to sing thy fate!

Pale Sorrow's victims wert thou once among,
Tho' now releas'd in woodlands wild to rove?
Say---hast thou felt from friends some cruel wrong,
Or diedst thou---martyr of disastrous love?
Ah! ...

Read the full of Sonnet Iii: To A Nightingale

The Emigrants: Book Ii

Scene, on an Eminence on one of those Downs, which afford to the South a view of the Sea; to the North of the Weald of Sussex. Time, an Afternoon in April, 1793.


Long wintry months are past; the Moon that now
Lights her pale crescent even at noon, has made
Four times her revolution; since with step,
Mournful and slow, along the wave-worn cliff,
Pensive I took my solitary way,
Lost in despondence, while contemplating

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