On the Return of Spring

Though youth and health their genial blessings bring,And nature hails the glad return of Spring,Whose lavish hand new clothes the naked ground,And slumb'ring vegetation wakes around;Ah! what avails it, when the deep controulOf sorrow flings a winter o'er the soul?On death's cold cheek can life and beauty bloom,Or Spring revive the ashes of the tomb?All nature smiles; the gaily painted flow'rSprings into life, and hails the vernal hour;But man, when once his little span is o'er,Nor Spring nor Summer can again restore.

Revive, ye woods! your leafy honours spread,In green luxuriance o'er the wand'rer's head;Perch'd on the boughs, ye feather'd warblers sing,And greet, with glad accord, returning Spring:No more in icy chains, ye Naiads! mourn,But pour the sparkling stream from many an urn.

Would selfish grief the charms of Spring destroy?—Though I may mourn, yet millions may enjoy:Was wide creation only meant for me—No other heart to feel, nor eye to see?No! let me hope that many a mortal bless'd,Can boast the brighter sun-shine of the breast.For such, oh, Spring! return in all thy joy,No envious fate their fleeting bliss destroy!Nor will I waste in sorrowing strains my breathTo chill that sunbeam with the gloom of death;But all my anguish, to my breast confin'd,Shall prey unshar'd upon my sinking mind,And gently steal me to the silent grave,Where mem'ry dies, and grief forgets to rave.