LOOSE to the wind her golden tresses stream'd, <br />Forming bright waves with amorous Zephyr's sighs; <br />And though averted now, her charming eyes <br />Then with warm love, and melting pity beam'd, <br />Was I deceived?--Ah! surely, nymph divine! <br />That fine suffusion on thy cheek was love; <br />What wonder then those beauteous tints should move, <br />Should fire this heart, this tender heart of mine! <br />Thy soft melodious voice, thy air, thy shape, <br />Were of a goddess--not a mortal maid; <br />Yet though thy charms, thy heavenly charms should fade, <br />My heart, my tender heart could not escape; <br />Nor cure for me in time or change be found: <br />The shaft extracted does not cure the wound!<br /><br />Charlotte Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xiv-from-petrarch/
