THE PLEASURES OF RETIREMENT. THE man, who, from the world escaped, In still retreats and flow'ry solitudes, To Nature's voice attends, from month to month, THOMSON. THE BANKS OF THE WYE. FIVE years have pass'd; five summers, with the length These waters, rolling from their mountain springs Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, Though absent long, When the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart- O sylvan Wye! . To look on Nature, not Of thoughtless youth.. For I have learned as in the hour And I have felt A presence that disturbs me with the joy All thinking things, all objects of all thought, Thou art with me here upon the banks Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while Therefore let the moon Shine on thee in thy solitary walk; And let the misty mountain winds be free If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief, Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts |