While the sun smiles upon his favorite child:
When first thou dost magnificent succeed
To the bright chariot of the circling year,
The valleys laugh, and plenty greets thy steps;
Around thee then the cheerful cornfields wave,
And purple clusters sparkle on the vine;
Then the rich tints are colouring the leaves,
Like the pavilion of an eastern king,
And flowers breathe their latest, sweetest sigh.
Soon is thy beauty gone! the leaves and flowers,
That welcom'd thee at first, are quickly gone,
Like faithless friends that flee adversity;
Then round thee blow the keen winds, like reproach,
That ever wait upon the sunless day.—
Thy brow is sad, thy sky is lost in clouds,
And darkness is around thee as a robe.
Spring blushes into summer; summer goes,
And leaves a glorious trace of light behind;—
