Charlotte Turner Smith
          
Elegiac sonnets. Volume 1 of 2
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SONNET XXXIX.

TO NIGHT.
FROM THE SAME.
I LOVE thee, mournful sober-suited night,
         When the faint moon, yet lingering in her wane,
And veil'd in clouds, with pale uncertain light
         Hangs o'er the waters of the restless main.
In deep depression sunk, the enfeebled mind
         Will to the deaf, cold elements complain,
         And tell the embosom'd grief, however vain,
To sullen surges and the viewless wind.
Tho' no repose on thy dark breast I find,
         I still enjoy thee cheerless as thou art;
         For in thy quiet gloom, the exhausted heart
Is calm, tho' wretched; hopeless, yet resign'd.
While, to the winds and waves its sorrows given,
May reach tho' lost on earth the ear of Heaven!
 
 
 
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