Address to Summer

Soft season! art thou come again,
With all thy stores of bloom and brightness;
Thy green and daisy-spotted plain,
Blue sky, and clouds of silver whiteness?

I loved thee once, and fondly hail'd
Of thy return the slenderest token;
But then my spirits had not fail'd,
Nor was my heart by sorrow broken.

Now, while on life's long, weary way,
I'm sad and joyless glances casting;
I, with thy bright and cheerful day,
Am my dark, gloomy fate contrasting.

Fair Summer! when thy genial breeze
Is next o'er budding flowrets sighing,
May I, beneath yon willow trees,
Be in my narrow dwelling lying.

A SISTER then, with VOTIVE HAND
The sod with thy fresh blossoms strewing,
Shall by my grave in sorrow stand,
Although my sorrow's refuge viewing.

And when at eve she sees those flowers
Droop, fade, and die, o'er her she cherish'd,
She'll think on dear departed hours,
And cry 'like these she bloom'd and perish'd!'