Written on the Sea Shore, Oct. 1784. <br />ON some rude fragment of the rocky shore, <br />Where on the fractured cliff the billows break, <br />Musing, my solitary seat I take, <br />And listen to the deep and solemn roar. <br />O'er the dark waves the winds tempestuous howl; <br />The screaming sea-bird quits the troubled sea: <br />But the wild gloomy scene has charms for me, <br />And suits the mournful temper of my soul. <br />Already shipwreck'd by the storms of Fate, <br />Like the poor mariner methinks I stand, <br />Cast on a rock; who sees the distant land <br />From whence no succour comes--or comes too late. <br />Faint and more faint are heard his feeble cries, <br />Till in the rising tide the exhausted sufferer dies.<br /><br />Charlotte Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xii-8/
