SHOULD the lone wanderer, fainting on his way, <br />Rest for a moment of the sultry hours, <br />And though his path through thorns and roughness lay, <br />Pluck the wild rose, or woodbine's gadding flowers, <br />Weaving gay wreaths beneath some sheltering tree, <br />The sense of sorrow he awhile may lose; <br />So have I sought thy flowers, fair Poesy! <br />So charm'd my way with Friendship and the Muse. <br />But darker now grows life's unhappy day, <br />Dark with new clouds of evil yet to come, <br />Her pencil sickening Fancy throws away, <br />And weary Hope reclines upon the tomb; <br />And points my wishes to that tranquil shore, <br />Where the pale spectre Care pursues no more.<br /><br />Charlotte Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xxxvi-4/
