Classic Poem

AT THE END OF WINTER .

Fold your enamell'd wings again,
Oh yet prolong your wintry sleep! —
How many wake from ease to pain,
And only ope their eyes — to weep!

Ah no! undimm'd by tears, you see
Where nature lights your flow'ry way;
Poor human insect! low'r for me
Those clouds which sadden reason's day!

By reason's light, with joyless eyes,
On all creation's laws we look;
What read we there? Pains, penalties,
And our death-sentence ends the book.

Whilst blithe you range from rose to rose,
We , sighing, muse how short their bloom!
To you life's twilight prospect shews
No mines of science — and no tomb!

But yet, though reason damp our mirth,
One matchless hope its aid has given;
Your twilight only shews you Earth ,
Our day , though clouded, shews us Heaven!