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Charlotte Smith - Sonnet XXIV. By The Same.
Work rating: Low

MAKE there my tomb, beneath the lime-tree`s shade,
Where grass and flowers in wild luxuriance wave;
Let no memorial mark where I am laid,
Or point to common eyes the lover`s grave!
But oft at twilight morn, or closing day,
The faithful friend with fault`ring step shall glide,
Tributes of fond regret by stealth to pay,
And sigh o`er the unhappy suicide.
And sometimes, when the sun with parting rays
Gilds the long grass that hides my silent bed,
The tear shall tremble in my Charlotte`s eyes;
Dear, precious drops!--they shall embalm the dead!
Yes--Charlotte o`er the mournful spot shall weep,
Where her poor Werter--and his sorrows sleep.
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