Written in Surry, in August 1792.

When Spring's mild breezes, rich with health and joy,
Kiss'd the sweet cowslip, and the sweeter rose,
The Nightingale, with soothing melody,
Nightly compos'd my spirits to repose.

And when the Morn's inviting charms, display'd,
Allur'd me forth, to breathe salubrious air,
The little warbler, in the fragrant shade,
With pleasing notes sooth'd each intrusive care.

Now, when the fruits of Autumn, spread abroad,
In ripe luxuriance, gratifies my mind,
My tuneful bird hath left his gay abode,
And speeds to distant regions, on the wind.

'Tis thus with ev'ry sublunary joy —
Bereav'd, by Time, of all our hearts hold dear —
Our tender friends, our lov'd relations, die;
We mourn the loss — but, fain would linger here.