A collection of original poems and translations | ||
Dear absent Master of this sweet Domain,
Attend a while, 'tis Friendship breaths the Strain;
This bids the Heart midst Ease and Plenty moan,
And makes Joy tasteless when confin'd to one.
The Morn, 'tis true, can no where fairer rise,
No Zephyrs softer fan the Evn'ing Skies,
Spring has no sweeter Task than to improve
Yon flow'ry Level, and that sprouting Grove;
The warbling Birds send Peace to ev'ry Ear,
And the Streams murmur rest to ev'ry Care.
Attend a while, 'tis Friendship breaths the Strain;
This bids the Heart midst Ease and Plenty moan,
And makes Joy tasteless when confin'd to one.
The Morn, 'tis true, can no where fairer rise,
No Zephyrs softer fan the Evn'ing Skies,
Spring has no sweeter Task than to improve
Yon flow'ry Level, and that sprouting Grove;
The warbling Birds send Peace to ev'ry Ear,
And the Streams murmur rest to ev'ry Care.
A collection of original poems and translations | ||