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Charlotte Smith - Sonnet LXXIX. To The Goddess Of Botany
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OF Folly weary, shrinking from the view
Of Violence and Fraud, allow`d to take
All peace from humble life; I would forsake
Their haunts for ever, and, sweet Nymph! with you
Find shelter; where my tired, and tear-swollen eyes
Among your silent shades of soothing hue,
Your "bells and florrets of unnumber`d dyes"
Might rest--And learn the bright varieties
That from your lovely hands are fed with dew;
And every veined leaf, that trembling sighs
In mead or woodland; or in wilds remote,
Or lurk with mosses in the humid caves,
Mantle the cliffs, on dimpling rivers float,
Or stream from coral rocks beneath the ocean`s waves.
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