 | The poems (1925) |  |
47
Winter
Old Time, alas! with stealing Race,
Now changes Nature's blooming Face:
No more the Beauties of the Spring
Delight, no more the Warbler's sing:
No more the Flow'rets deck the Ground,
No more is rural Pleasure found.
Now changes Nature's blooming Face:
No more the Beauties of the Spring
Delight, no more the Warbler's sing:
No more the Flow'rets deck the Ground,
No more is rural Pleasure found.
The Breeze that fann'd the rustling Glade,
The Woodbine Bow'r, the Poplar shade,
And fragrant Sweets arising there,
That wide perfum'd the ambient Air,
Are banish'd all; and all that's gay,
Stern Winter now has swept away.
The verdant Grove, where oft I've stray'd,
The matted Grass, whereon I've laid;
The Rill, which purl'd so clear before,
Congeal'd in Ice, delights no more:
Phœbus too, Glory of the Skies,
Who bids the Meads, the Flow'rs arise,
Deserts us now, as if afraid
To view the change by Winter made.
While he maintains his rigid Reign,
Progne forsakes the cheerless Plain;
To Southern Realms remote she flies,
To more auspicious, warmer Skies:
Whilst we are left behind to bear
Th'unwholesome Rigour of the Air,
Then say, is there nought to find,
To warm the man, to soothe the Mind?
The Grape remains; fill high the Bowl,
This still can animate the Soul.
The Woodbine Bow'r, the Poplar shade,
And fragrant Sweets arising there,
That wide perfum'd the ambient Air,
Are banish'd all; and all that's gay,
Stern Winter now has swept away.
The verdant Grove, where oft I've stray'd,
49
The Rill, which purl'd so clear before,
Congeal'd in Ice, delights no more:
Phœbus too, Glory of the Skies,
Who bids the Meads, the Flow'rs arise,
Deserts us now, as if afraid
To view the change by Winter made.
While he maintains his rigid Reign,
Progne forsakes the cheerless Plain;
To Southern Realms remote she flies,
To more auspicious, warmer Skies:
Whilst we are left behind to bear
Th'unwholesome Rigour of the Air,
Then say, is there nought to find,
To warm the man, to soothe the Mind?
The Grape remains; fill high the Bowl,
This still can animate the Soul.
Just Emblem of our Station here,
Appears each circulating Year:
Man surely reaps the Seed he sows,
And Error's sown where Error grows:
Then learn the Spring of Life t'improve,
And ev'ry noxious Weed remove;
Sow nought but Seeds of Prudence there,
And these will well repay thy Care;
Then, when thy Summer's Sun is fled,
And Autumn silvers o'er thy Head;
When Winter's Frosts shall freeze thy Veins;
(Tho' rack'd with Age-attending Pains,)
The glad Remembrance of the Past,
Shall sweeten Life, while Life doth last.
Appears each circulating Year:
Man surely reaps the Seed he sows,
And Error's sown where Error grows:
Then learn the Spring of Life t'improve,
And ev'ry noxious Weed remove;
Sow nought but Seeds of Prudence there,
And these will well repay thy Care;
Then, when thy Summer's Sun is fled,
And Autumn silvers o'er thy Head;
When Winter's Frosts shall freeze thy Veins;
(Tho' rack'd with Age-attending Pains,)
The glad Remembrance of the Past,
Shall sweeten Life, while Life doth last.
| The poems (1925) | |