Absence

Where graced with many a classic spoil

Cam rolls his reverend stream along,

I haste to urge the learnéd toil

That sternly chides my love-lorn song:

Ah me! too mindful of the days

Illumed by Passion's orient rays,

When Peace, and Cheerfulness and Health

Enriched me with the best of wealth.

Ah fair Delights! that o'er my soul

On Memory's wing, like shadows fly!

Ah Flowers! which Joy from Eden stole

While Innocence stood smiling by!—

But cease, fond Heart! this bootless moan:

Those Hours on rapid Pinions flown

Shall yet return, by Absence crown'd,

And scatter livelier roses round.

The Sun who ne'er remits his fires

On heedless eyes may pour the day:

The Moon, that oft from Heaven retires,

Endears her renovated ray.

What though she leave the sky unblest

To mourn awhile in murky vest?

When she relumes her lovely light,

We bless the Wanderer of the Night.