YE vales and woods! fair scenes of happier hours! <br />Ye feather'd people, tenants of the grove! <br />And you, bright stream! befringed with shrubs and flowers, <br />Behold my grief, ye witnesses of love! <br />For ye beheld my infant passion rise, <br />And saw through years unchanged my faithful flame; <br />Now cold, in dust, the beauteous object lies, <br />And you, ye conscious scenes, are still the same! <br />While busy Memory still delights to dwell <br />On all the charms these bitter tears deplore, <br />And with a trembling hand describes too well <br />The angel form I shall behold no more! <br />To Heaven she's fled! and nought to me remains <br />But the pale ashes which her urn contains.<br /><br />Charlotte Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xvi-from-petrarch/
