NO more my wearied soul attempts to stray <br />From sad reality and vain regret, <br />Nor courts enchanting fiction to allay <br />Sorrows that sense refuses to forget: <br />For of calamity so long the prey, <br />Imagination now has lost her powers, <br />Nor will her fairy loom again essay <br />To dress affliction in a robe of flowers. <br />But if no more the bowers of Fancy bloom, <br />Let one superior scene attract my view, <br />Where heaven's pure rays the sacred spot illume, <br />Let thy loved hand with palm and amaranth strew <br />The mournful path approaching to the tomb, <br />While Faith's consoling voice endears the friendly gloom.<br /><br />Charlotte Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xlviii-to-mrs/
