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Charlotte Smith - Sonnet V. To The South Downs
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AH! hills beloved!--where once, a happy child,
Your beechen shades, `your turf, your flowers among,`
I wove your blue-bells into garlands wild,
And woke your echoes with my artless song.
Ah! hills beloved!--your turf, your flowers remain;
But can they peace to this sad breast restore,
For one poor moment soothe the sense of pain,
And teach a breaking heart to throb no more?
And you, Aruna!--in the vale below,
As to the sea your limpid waves you bear
Can you one kind Lethean cup bestow,
To drink a long oblivion to my care?
Ah! no!--when all, e`en Hope`s last ray is gone,
There`s no oblivion--but in death alone!
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