Where antique woods o’er-hang the mountains’s crest,
And mid-day glooms in solemn silence lour;
Philosophy, go seek a lonely bow’r,
And waste life’s fervid noon in fancied rest.
Go, where the bird of sorrow weaves her nest,
Cooing, in sadness sweet, through night’s dim hour;
Go, cull the dew-drops from each potent flow’r
That med’cines to the cold and reas’ning breast!
Go, where the brook in liquid lapse steals by,
Scarce heard amid’st the mingling echoes round,
What time, the noon fades slowly down the sky,
And slumb’ring zephyrs moan, in caverns bound:
Be these thy pleasures, dull Philosophy!
Nor vaunt the balm, to heal a lover’s wound.
(Mary Darby Robinson)
More Poetry from Mary Darby Robinson:
Mary Darby Robinson Poems based on Topics: Love, Sadness, Time, Birds, Pleasure, Philosophy- Petrarch to Laura (Mary Darby Robinson Poems)
- Sir Raymond of the Castle (Mary Darby Robinson Poems)
- Old Barnard -- A Monkish Tale (Mary Darby Robinson Poems)
- Ode to Vanity (Mary Darby Robinson Poems)
- The Origin of Cupid -- A Fable (Mary Darby Robinson Poems)
- London's Summer Morning (Mary Darby Robinson Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Love Poems, Sadness Poems, Time Poems, Birds Poems, Pleasure Poems, Philosophy PoemsBased on Keywords: reas, cooing, dew-drops, vaunt, slumb, fervid, lour, med, cull, cines