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And scatter'd by the driving hail—
Where erst fair violets bloom'd around,
And spread their fragrance on the gale—
The mangled primrose strews the ground.

With tott'ring steps the new fall'n lamb,
Seeks shelter from th' inclement sky;
And meekly couches by its dam,
And faintly breathes its plaintive cry.

From yonder bush, the blast so rude
The blackbird's clay-built nest has torn;
The grove, where late his bride he woo'd,
Now echoes to his notes forlorn.

All Nature felt the gen'ral chill,
The lightest heart a gloom confest;
It deaden'd fancy's magic thrill,
Imagination's fires represt.