Written at Weymouth in winter. <br />THE chill waves whiten in the sharp North-east; <br />Cold, cold the night-blast comes, with sullen sound, <br />And black and gloomy, like my cheerless breast: <br />Frowns the dark pier and lonely sea-view round. <br />Yet a few months--and on the peopled strand <br />Pleasure shall all her varied forms display; <br />Nymphs lightly tread the bright reflecting sand, <br />And proud sails whiten all the summer bay: <br />Then, from these winds that whistle keen and bleak, <br />Music's delightful melodies shall float <br />O'er the blue waters; but 'tis mine to seek <br />Rather, some unfrequented shade, remote <br />From sights and sounds of gaiety--I mourn <br />All that gave me delight--Ah! never to return<br /><br />Charlotte Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-lxxi-3/
