To Nature
O nature! if amidst thy prospects gay,
My fond heart sighs for Damon far away,—
If, gazing on the fragrant wreath you wear,
I frequent drop unseen the silent tear,
Thy beauties, goddess, they shall never harm,—
Shall never rudely blast one sacred charm:
Like gentle gales, my soft sighs fan thy bowers,—
Like pearly dew my tears adorn thy flowers.
My sorrow calm as yon unruffled stream,—
Nor woosDespair, nor trusts Hope's flatt'ring dream;
Alone, like Night's sad songstress I complain,
And scorning pity, glory in my pain;—
Yet still, O Nature! thou art dear to me;
For souls that love refines expand to thee,
My fond heart sighs for Damon far away,—
If, gazing on the fragrant wreath you wear,
I frequent drop unseen the silent tear,
Thy beauties, goddess, they shall never harm,—
Shall never rudely blast one sacred charm:
Like gentle gales, my soft sighs fan thy bowers,—
Like pearly dew my tears adorn thy flowers.
My sorrow calm as yon unruffled stream,—
Nor woosDespair, nor trusts Hope's flatt'ring dream;
Alone, like Night's sad songstress I complain,
And scorning pity, glory in my pain;—
Yet still, O Nature! thou art dear to me;
For souls that love refines expand to thee,
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