And feel thy sovereign vital Lamp; but thou
Revisit'st not these eyes, that roll in vain
To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn;
So thick a drop serene hath quenched their Orbs,
Or dim suffusion veiled.
. . . Thus with the Year
Seasons
return, but not to me returns
Day, or the sweet approach of Even or Morn,
Or sight of vernal bloom, or Summers Rose,
Or flocks, or herds, or ... more »
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