Classic Poem

Elastic May, with all the jocund train
Of Summer months, and Autumn bright and clear,
Move on apace, and leave me wasting here—
Not one of them with soft breath lulls my pain:—
The Sun that like a giant runs his race,
The Stars which mortal weakness ne'er assails,
And Cynthia whose fixed visit never fails,
Fair image of a young health-radiant face—
Swift meteors, shooting stars, and rainbows fine,
Whose blended lines glad village girls may wear
At merry-makings in the open air,
While Nature's rival colours round them shine—
These I have ceased to view, and O 'tis well!
Since I am faultering, sinking on my way,
The sight of Nature, ever young and gay,
Might lead my tutored spirit to rebel.
Yet those bright shews are now of higher worth,
Summoned by Thought and gorgeously combined,
Than when I moved unfettered as the wind—
They help to build for me new Heav'ns and Earth,
For as a Mountain, rising in the West,
Appears transfigured by the Sun's past light,
And, while the shades are gathering, looks more bright
Than late it seemed, in noon-tide splendour drest,
So the unconquered mind, by suffering tried,
For which few pleasures and few hopes remain,
Some exquisite delights e'en yet may gain,
That in Life's gladder season are denied.