WILT thou forsake me who in life's bright May <br />Lent warmer lustre to the radiant morn; <br />And even o'er summer scenes by tempests torn, <br />Shed with illusive light the dewy ray <br />Of pensive pleasure? Wilt thou, while the day <br />Of saddening autumn closes, as I mourn <br />In languid, hopeless sorrow, far away <br />Bend thy soft step, and never more return?-- <br />Crush'd to the earth, by bitterest anguish press'd, <br />From my faint eyes thy graceful form recedes; <br />Thou canst not heal a heart like mine that bleeds; <br />But, when in quiet earth that heart shall rest, <br />Haply mayst thou one sorrowing vigil keep, <br />Where Pity and Remembrance bend and weep!<br /><br />Charlotte Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-lxxxiv-to-the-muse-2/
