Charlotte Smith Poems

AMONG deep woods is the dismantled scite
Of an old Abbey, where the chaunted rite,
By twice ten brethren of the monkish cowl,
...

AGAIN the wood and long-withdrawing vale
In many a tint of tender green are drest,
Where the young leaves, unfolding, scarce conceal
...

NYMPH of the rock! whose dauntless spirit braves
The beating storm, and bitter winds that howl
...

THE gorse is yellow on the heath,
The banks with speedwell flowers are gay,
The oaks are budding; and beneath,
...

Descriptive of the miseries of War; from a Poem
called 'The Emigrants,' printed in 1793.
TO a wild mountain, whose bare summit hides
...

The gorse is yellow on the heath,
The banks with speedwell flowers are gay,
The oaks are budding, and, beneath,
...

I LOVE thee, mournful, sober-suited Night!
When the faint moon, yet lingering in her wane,
And veil'd in clouds, with pale uncertain light
...

NOVEMBER'S chill blast on the rough beach is howling,
The surge breaks afar, and then foams to the shore,
...

IN early youth's unclouded scene,
The brilliant morning of eighteen,
With health and sprightly joy elate
...

AH! hills beloved!--where once, a happy child,
Your beechen shades, 'your turf, your flowers among,'
I wove your blue-bells into garlands wild,
...