09.02.2019, 15:49
Compassion
( WRITTEN IN A LEAFLESS BOWER AT HON. MRS. WESTENRA'S, DECEMBER , 1826)
Fair as the flower is, it will yet decay;
Green as the leaf is, it will yet be sere;
Night has a pall to wind the gaudiest day,
And Winter wraps in shrouds the loveliest year:
For those the gale mourns in loud accents drear,
The blooms that gave it sweeter breath are gone;
Heaven's glistening eyes with many a silent tear
Beweep the nightly burial of the sun;
Nature herself the lifeless year deplores,
Sad Mother, laying all her children low,
From her deep heartspring grief's wild torrent pours,
Hill, vale, and desolate woodland speak her woe:
Thou too must fade like year — day — leaf — and bloom,
Pale moralist! — wilt have like mourners at thy tomb?
.
( WRITTEN IN A LEAFLESS BOWER AT HON. MRS. WESTENRA'S, DECEMBER , 1826)
Fair as the flower is, it will yet decay;
Green as the leaf is, it will yet be sere;
Night has a pall to wind the gaudiest day,
And Winter wraps in shrouds the loveliest year:
For those the gale mourns in loud accents drear,
The blooms that gave it sweeter breath are gone;
Heaven's glistening eyes with many a silent tear
Beweep the nightly burial of the sun;
Nature herself the lifeless year deplores,
Sad Mother, laying all her children low,
From her deep heartspring grief's wild torrent pours,
Hill, vale, and desolate woodland speak her woe:
Thou too must fade like year — day — leaf — and bloom,
Pale moralist! — wilt have like mourners at thy tomb?
.