WHERE the wild woods and pathless forests frown, <br />The darkling Pilgrim seeks his unknown way, <br />Till on the grass he throws him weary down, <br />To wait in broken sleep the dawn of day: <br />Through boughs just waving in the silent air, <br />With pale capricious light the summer moon <br />Chequers his humid couch; while Fancy there, <br />That loves to wanton in the night's deep noon, <br />Calls from the mossy roots and fountain edge <br />Fair visionary Nymphs that haunt the shade, <br />Or Naiads rising from the whispering sedge: <br />And, 'mid the beauteous group, his dear loved maid <br />Seems beckoning him with smiles to join the train: <br />Then, starting from his dream, he feels his woes again!<br /><br />Charlotte Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-lxxv-2/
