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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=539340" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Verses, To William Lyttleton, Esq.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">How blithely pass'd the summer's day!<br>How bright was every flower!<br>While friends arrived in circles gay,<br>To visit Damon's bower!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But now, with silent step I range<br>Along some lonely shore;<br>And Damon's bower, alas the change!<br>Is gay with friends no more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Away to crowds and cities borne,<br>In quest of joy they steer,<br>Whilst I, alas! am left forlorn,<br>To weep the parting year!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O pensive autumn! how I grieve<br>Thy sorrowing face to see!<br>When languid suns are taking leave<br>Of every drooping tree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! let me not, with heavy eye,<br>This dying scene survey!<br>Haste Winter! Haste! usurp the sky;<br>Complete my bower's decay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ill can I bear the motley cast<br>Yon sickening leaves retain;<br>That speak at once of pleasure past,<br>And bode approaching pain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At home, unblest, I gaze around,<br>My distant scenes require;<br>Where, all in murky vapours drown'd,<br>Are hamlet, hill, and spire.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though Thomson, sweet descriptive bard!<br>Inspiring Autumn sung;<br>Yet how should we the months regard,<br>That stopt his flowing tongue?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! luckless months, of all the rest,<br>To whose hard share it fell!<br>For sure his was the gentlest breast<br>That ever sung so well.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And see, the swallows now disown<br>The roofs they loved before,<br>Each, like his tuneful genius, flown<br>To glad some happier shore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The wood-nymph eyes, with pale affright,<br>The sportsman's frantic deed,<br>While hounds, and horns, and yells, unite<br>To drown the Muse's reed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ye fields, with blighted herbage brown!<br>Ye skies, no longer blue!<br>Too much we feel from Fortune's frown<br>To bear these frowns from you.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where is the mead's unsullied green?<br>The zephyr's balmy gale?<br>And where sweet friendship's cordial mien,<br>That brighten'd every vale?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What though the vine disclose her dyes,<br>And boast her purple store?<br>Not all the vineyard's rich supplies<br>Can soothe our sorrows more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He! he is gone, whose moral strain<br>Could wit and mirth refine;<br>He! he is gone, whose social vein<br>Surpass'd the power of wine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fast by the streams he deign'd to praise,<br>In yon sequester'd grove,<br>To him a votive urn I raise,<br>To him, and friendly Love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes, there, my friend! forlorn and sad<br>I grave your Thomson's name,<br>And there, his lyre; which Fate forbade<br>To sound your growing fame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There shall my plaintive song recount<br>Dark themes of hopeless woe,<br>And faster than the drooping fount<br>I'll teach mine eyes to flow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There leaves, in spite of Autumn green,<br>Shall shade the hallow'd ground,<br>And Spring will there again be seen<br>To call forth flowers around.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But no kind suns will bid me share,<br>Once more, his social hour;<br>Ah! Spring! thou never canst repair<br>This loss to Damon's bower.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Shenstone">William Shenstone</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=539340" data-title="Verses, To William Lyttleton, Esq. de William Shenstone" data-description="How blithely pass'd the summer's day!
How bright was every flower!
While friends arrived in circles gay,
To visit Damon's bower!

But now, with silent step I range
Along some lonely shore;
And Damon's bower, alas the change!
Is gay with friends no..."></div>
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