The poplars are fell’d: farewell to the shade,
And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade;
The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves,
Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives.
Twelve years have elapsed, since I last took a view
Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew;
And now in the grass behold they are laid,
And the tree is my seat, that once lent me a shade.
“The blackbird has fled to another retreat,
Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat,
And the scene where his melody charm’d me before
Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more.
“My fugitive years are all hasting away,
And I must ere long lie as lowly as they,
With a turf on my breast, and a stone at my head,
Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead.
“‘Tis a sight to engage me, if anything can,
To muse on the perishing pleasures of man;
Tho’ his life be a dream, his enjoyments, I see,
Have a being less durable even than he.”
(Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton)
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Based on Topics: Man Poems, Nature Poems, Sense & Perception Poems, Dreams PoemsBased on Keywords: durable, enjoyments, ouse, hazels, colonnade, elapsed, sweet-flowing