FAULTERING and sad the unhappy pilgrim roves, <br />Who, on the eve of bleak December's night, <br />Divided far from all he fondly loves, <br />Journeys alone, along the giddy height <br />Of these steep cliffs, and as the sun's last ray <br />Fades in the West, sees, from the rocky verge, <br />Dark tempests scowling o'er the shortened day, <br />And hears, with ear appall'd, the impetuous surge <br />Beneath him thunder!--So, with heart oppress'd, <br />Alone, reluctant, desolate, and slow, <br />By Friendship's cheering radiance now unblest, <br />Along life's rudest path I seem to go; <br />Nor see where yet the anxious heart may rest, <br />That, trembling at the past--recoils from future woe.<br /><br />Charlotte Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-lii-3/
