Press'd by the Moon, mute arbitress of tides, <br />While the loud equinox its power combines, <br />The sea no more its swelling surge confines, <br />But o'er the shrinking land sublimely rides. <br />The wild blast, rising from the Western cave, <br />Drives the huge billows from their heaving bed; <br />Tears from their grassy tombs the village dead, <br />And breaks the silent sabbath of the grave! <br />With shells and sea-weed mingled, on the shore <br />Lo! their bones whiten in the frequent wave; <br />But vain to them the winds and waters rave; <br />They hear the warring elements no more: <br />While I am doom'd—by life's long storm opprest, <br />To gaze with envy on their gloomy rest.<br /><br />Charlotte Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xliv-press-d-by-the-moon/
