| In vain to me the smiling mornings shine, |
| And reddening Phoebus lifts his golden fire
: |
| The birds in vain their amorous descant
join, |
| Or cheerful fields resume their green
attire : |
| These ears, alas ! for other notes repine, |
| A different object do these eyes require. |
| My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine ; |
| And in my breast the imperfect joys expire. |
| Yet morning smiles the busy race to cheer, |
| And new-born pleasure brings to happier men
; |
| The fields to all their wonted tribute bear
; |
| To warm their little loves the birds
complain. |
| I fruitless mourn to him that cannot hear, |
And weep the more because I weep in vain.
|
| Thomas Gray |
Classic Poems |
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[ Elegy Written In a Country Churchyard ] [ Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College ] [ The Bard ] [ On the Death of Richard West ] [ Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat .. ] |
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