140
AUTUMN.
O'er that the rising system, more complex, 1350
Of animals; and higher still, the mind,
The varied scene of quick-compounded thought,
And where the mixing passions endless shift;
These ever open to my ravish'd eye:
A search, the flight of time can ne'er exhaust! 1355
But if to that unequal; if the blood,
In sluggish streams about my heart, forbid
That best ambition; under closing shades,
Inglorious, lay me by the lowly brook,
And whisper to my dreams. From Thee begin, 1360
Dwell all on Thee, with Thee conclude my song;
And let me never never stray from Thee!
WINTER.
