Swift fleet the billowy clouds along the sky, <br />Earth seems to shudder at the storm aghast; <br />While only beings as forlorn as I, <br />Court the chill horrors of the howling blast. <br />Even round yon crumbling walls, in search of food, <br />The ravenous Owl foregoes his evening flight, <br />And in his cave, within the deepest wood, <br />The Fox eludes the tempest of the night. <br />But to my heart congenial is the gloom <br />Which hides me from a World I wish to shun; <br />That scene where Ruin saps the mouldering tomb, <br />Suits with the sadness of a wretch undone. <br />Nor is the deepest shade, the keenest air, <br />Black as my fate, or cold as my despair.<br /><br />Charlotte Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-lxvii-on-passing-over-a-dreary-tract/
