OH! place me where the burning moon <br />Forbids the wither'd flower to blow; <br />Or place me in the frigid zone, <br />On mountains of eternal snow: <br />Let me pursue the steps of Fame, <br />Or Poverty's more tranquil road; <br />Let youth's warm tide my veins inflame, <br />Or sixty winters chill my blood: <br />Though my fond soul to Heaven were flown, <br />Or though on earth 'tis doom'd to pine, <br />Prisoner or free--obscure or known, <br />My heart, oh Laura! still is thine. <br />Whate'er my destiny may be, <br />That faithful heart still burns for thee!<br /><br />Charlotte Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xiii-from-petrarch/
