Charlotte Turner Smith (Шарлотта Смит)
Apostrophe
To an old tree WHERE thy broad branches brave the bitter North, Like rugged, indigent, unheeded, worth, Lo! Vegetation's guardian hands emboss Each giant limb with fronds of studded moss, That clothes the bark in many a fringed fold Begemm'd with scarlet shields, and cups of gold, Which, to the wildest winds their webs oppose, And mock the arrowy sleet, or weltering snows. --But to the warmer West the woodbine fair With tassels that perfumed the summer air, The mantling clematis, whose feathery bowers Waved in festoons with nightshade's purple flowers, The silver weed, whose corded fillets wove Round thy pale rind, even as deceitful love Of mercenary beauty would engage The dotard fondness of decrepit age; All these, that during summer's halcyon days With their green canopies conceal'd thy sprays, Are gone for ever; or disfigured, trail Their sallow relicts in the autumnal gale; Or o'er thy roots, in faded fragments toss'd, But tell of happier hours, and sweetness lost! --Thus in Fate's trying hour, when furious storms Strip social life of Pleasure's fragile forms, And awful Justice , as his rightful prey Tears Luxury's silk, and jewel'd robe, away, While reads Adversity her lesson stern, And Fortune's minions tremble as they learn; The crowds around her gilded car that hung, Bent the lithe knee, and troul'd the honey'd tongue, Desponding fall, or fly in pale despair; And Scorn alone remembers that they were. Not so Integrity ; unchanged he lives In the rude armour conscious Honour gives, And dares with hardy front the troubled sky, In Honesty's uninjured panoply. Ne'er on Prosperity's enfeebling bed Or rosy pillows, he reposed his head, But given to useful arts, his ardent mind Has sought the general welfare of mankind; To mitigate their ills his greatest bliss, While studying them , has taught him what he is ; He , when the human tempest rages worst, And the earth shudders as the thunders burst, Firm, as thy northern branch, is rooted fast, And if he can't avert , endures the blast.
Charlotte Turner Smith’s other poems:
- Sonnet 61. ILL-Omen’d Bird! Whose Cries Portentous Float
- Sonnet 67. On Passing Over A Dreary Tract
- Sonnet 45. On Leaving A Part Of Sussex
- Sonnet 42. Composed During a Walk
- Occasional Address
Poems of other poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):
1166