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The great, the gay, shall they partake
, The heav'n that thou alone canst make?
And wilt thou quit the stream That murmurs through the dewy mead, The grove and the sequester'd shed,
To be a guest with them?
For thee I panted, thee I priz'd,
Whate'er I loy'd before;
Farewell! we meet no more?
WRITTEN IN A TIME OF AFFLICTION
1. OH, happy shades--to me unblest!
Friendly to peace, but not to me! How ill the scene that offers rest,
And heart that cannot rest, agree!
This glassy stream, that spreading pine,
Those alders quiv'ring to the breeze, Might sooth a soul less hurt than mine,
And please, if any thing could please,
But fixt unalterable care
Foregoes not what she feels within, Shows the same sadness ev'ry where,
And slights the season and the scene.
For all that pleas'd in wood or lawn,
While peace possess’d these silent bow'rs, Her animating smile withdrawn,
Has lost its beauties and its pow'rs.
The saint or moralist should tread
This moss-grown alley, musing, slow, They seek, like me, the secret shade,
But not, like me, to nourish woe!
Me fruitful scenes and prospects waste,
Alike admonish not to roam; These tell me of enjoyments past,
And those of sorrows yet to come.
THERE often wanders one, whom better days