 | Love's Last Labour Not Lost |  |
2
[“In my quiet garden-room]
“In my quiet garden-room
Where I pass my pensive hours,
And enjoy the sweet perfume
Wafted by my fragrant flow'rs,
Pensioners from every spray,
Me their morning visits pay.
Where I pass my pensive hours,
And enjoy the sweet perfume
Wafted by my fragrant flow'rs,
Pensioners from every spray,
Me their morning visits pay.
Timidly aloof they stand,
Till grown tamer, they at last,
Perching upon my open'd hand,
Partake, with songs, of my repast—
'Tis then I learn from every bough
How cheap, O Happiness! art thou.
Till grown tamer, they at last,
Perching upon my open'd hand,
Partake, with songs, of my repast—
'Tis then I learn from every bough
How cheap, O Happiness! art thou.
And as this feast (too young to fly),
Their unfledged nestlings cannot share,
They to their leafy homes on high
A little part rejoicing bear;
Then this parental duty done,
Again they soaring, seek the sun.
Their unfledged nestlings cannot share,
They to their leafy homes on high
A little part rejoicing bear;
Then this parental duty done,
Again they soaring, seek the sun.
3
When winter chills the parting year,
And falls the snow, and roars the wind,
My truants daily disappear;
The Robin only stays behind,
And does his best to make amends,
Till spring returns, for absent friends.
And falls the snow, and roars the wind,
My truants daily disappear;
The Robin only stays behind,
And does his best to make amends,
Till spring returns, for absent friends.
Will they return with spring? How few!—
By driving storm, and leafless tree,
By bitter frost, and damp night-dew,
Full many a voice shall silenced be;
And he who spreads their feast to-day
May too, ere spring, have pass'd away.”
By driving storm, and leafless tree,
By bitter frost, and damp night-dew,
Full many a voice shall silenced be;
And he who spreads their feast to-day
May too, ere spring, have pass'd away.”
| Love's Last Labour Not Lost | |