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If to the valley she repair
For shelter and defence, Thy wrath pursues the mourner there,
And drives her, weeping, thence.
She seeks the brook, the faithless brook,
Of her unmindful grown,
And lingers into stone.
She wooes her embryo-flowers in vain
To rear their infant heads ;-
Enchanted in their beds.
In vain she bids the trees expand
Their green luxuriant charms ;Bare in the wilderness they stand,
And stretch their withering arms.
Her favourite birds, in feeble notes,
Lament thy long delay; And strain their little stammering throats
To charm thy blasts away.
Ah, WINTER! calm thy cruel rage,
Release the struggling year ;
Arise and disappear.
The stars that graced thy splendid night
Are lost in warmer rays;
Unrolls celestial days.
Then why, usurping Winter, why
Still flags thy frozen wing? Fly, unrelenting tyrant, fly
And yield the year to SPRING!
ROUND Love's Elysian bowers
The fairest prospects rise; There bloom the sweetest flowers,
There shine the purest skies : And joy and rapture gild awhile The cloudless heaven of BEAUTY's smile.
Round Love's deserted bowers
Tremendous rocks arise ;
Tornadoes rend the skies :
Then Youth, thou fond believer !
The wily Syren shun:
Will surely be undone !
A DRAWING OF YARDLEY OAK,
CELEBRATED BY COWPER.
See Hayley's Life and Letters of W. Cowper, Esq.
Of giant oaks, where once the wood
From age to age, it slowly spread
its noble head As slowly wither'd and declined.