Date: 1786
"So o'er my soul short rays of reason fly, / Then fade:--and leave me, to despair and die!"
preview | full record— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)
Date: 1786
"Oh thou! to save whose peace I now depart, / Will thy soft mind, thy poor lost friend deplore, / When worms shall feed on this devoted heart, / Where even thy image shall be found no more / Yet may thy pity mingle not with pain, / For then thy hapless lover--dies in vain!"
preview | full record— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)
Date: 1786
"'Tis thy pure spirit warms my Anna's mind. / Beams thro' the pensive softness of her form, / And holds its altar--on her spotless heart!"
preview | full record— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)
Date: 1786
"But when thy envied sanction crowns my lays, / A ray of pleasure lights my languid mind, / For well I know the value of thy praise."
preview | full record— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)
Date: 1786
"Strengthen'd by thee, this heart shall cease to melt / O'er ills that poor humanity must bear; / Nor friends estrang'd, or ties dissolv'd be felt / To leave regret, and fruitless anguish there."
preview | full record— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)
Date: 1786
"Her pencil sickening Fancy throws away, / And weary Hope reclines upon the tomb."
preview | full record— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)
Date: 1789
"But what gay blossoms of luxuriant Spring, / With rose, mimosa, amaranth entwin'd, / Shall fabled Sylphs and fairy people bring, / As a just emblem of the lovely mind?"
preview | full record— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)
Date: 1789
"Thee Queen of Shadows! [Fancy]--shall I still invoke, / Still love the scenes thy sportive pencil drew, / When on mine eyes the early radiance broke / Which shew'd the beauteous, rather than the true!"
preview | full record— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)
Date: 1789
"Bid Syren Hope resume her long lost part, / And chase the vulture Care--that feeds upon the heart."
preview | full record— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)
Date: 1789
"While in Fancy's ear / As in the evening wind thy murmurs swell, / The Enthusiast of the Lyre, who wander'd here, / Seems yet to strike his visionary shell, / Of power to call forth Pity's tenderest tear / Or wake wild frenzy--from her hideous cell!"
preview | full record— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)