IN this tumultuous sphere, for thee unfit,
How seldom art thou found--Tranquillity!
Unless 'tis when with mild and downcast eye
By the low cradles thou delight'st to sit
Of sleeping infants--watching the soft breath,
And bidding the sweet slumberers easy lie;
Or sometimes hanging o'er the bed of death,
Where the poor languid sufferer--hopes to die.
Oh, beauteous sister of the halcyon peace!
I sure shall find thee in that heavenly scene
Where care and anguish shall their power resign;
Where hope alike, and vain regret shall cease,
And memory--lost in happiness serene,
Repeat no more--that misery has been mine!
Sonnet Xli. To Tranquility
Charlotte Smith
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Poem topics: breath, death, happiness, hope, lost, memory, peace, poor, power, sister, sometimes, sweet, sphere, delight, easy, repeat, regret, soft, scene, anguish, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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