O'er faded heath-flowers spun, or thorny furze, <br />The filmy Gossamer is lightly spread; <br />Waving in every sighing air that stirs, <br />As Fairy fingers had entwined the thread: <br />A thousand trembling orbs of lucid dew <br />Spangle the texture of the fairy loom, <br />As if soft Sylphs, lamenting as they flew, <br />Had wept departed Summer's transient bloom: <br />But the wind rises, and the turf receives <br />The glittering web: -- So, evanescent, fade <br />Bright views that Youth with sanguine heart believes: <br />So vanish schemes of bliss, by Fancy made; <br />Which, fragile as the fleeting dews of morn, <br />Leave but the wither'd heath, and barren thorn!<br /><br />Charlotte Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-lxiii-the-gossamer/
