Charlotte Smith

C. B., "Sonnet to the Memory of Charlotte Smith" Morning Post (13 November 1806).

Dull is each songster of the silent grove,
And hush'd is Philomela desponding strain;
Nature no longer wears a look of love,
And Winter 'gins her melancholy reign.

Leafless the bough where once the linnet sat,
And tuneful sung the tedious hours away;
While in some hollow nook the moping bat
Reluctant bids a long farewell to day.

But when sweet Spring renews the flow'ry scene,
They "try again the long-forgotten strain;"
Heedless, poor birds, of storms and tempests keen,
And ceaseless sing 'till Winter comes again.

But, in Death's dreary realms, for ever fled,
CHARLOTTE! thy wounded soul shall bleed no more;
Shall feel no evils in thine earthy bed,
For all the cares of stormy life are o'er.

Yet tho' awhile unstrung thy plaintive lyre,
Thou, too, shalt live in joyous Spring again,
Shalt hail thy Maker with redoubled fire,
And sing his glory in a ceaseless strain.