Classic Poem

Soon as the vernal gales reviving bring
The tender leaves and variegated flow'rs,
And Earth imbibes the warm prolific show'rs,
With lively notes the woods and vallies ring:
Sing on, sweet warblers: with impatient wing
Your pleasures fly, and soon the wint'ry hours
Revolving strip once more your leafy bow'rs;
Those notes, perhaps, will chear no second spring.
Yet though your harmless days so swiftly flow,
Their bliss is unalloy'd: kind Heav'n denies.
The painful prospect of impending woe:
'Tis man's great privilege with piercing eyes
The threats of low'ring destiny to know,
And taste yet distant sorrows, dearly wise.