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 | Miscellanies (1785) |  |
But, is it Fancy all! what, no reserve?
From one dull course can nature never swerve?
Is change of seasons all the change she knows,
From autumn's sickly heats to winter snows;
From chilling spring, to summer's dog-star rage;
From boy to man, from man to crawling age?
These her transitions, ling'ring, sad, and slow,
Whence then, in these lov'd shades, my bosom's woe?
From one dull course can nature never swerve?
Is change of seasons all the change she knows,
From autumn's sickly heats to winter snows;
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From boy to man, from man to crawling age?
These her transitions, ling'ring, sad, and slow,
Whence then, in these lov'd shades, my bosom's woe?
| Miscellanies (1785) | |