Page:The works of Anna Laetitia Barbauld volume 1.djvu/114

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30
ON THE BACKWARDNESS OF SPRING.
Like some lone pilgrim clad in mournful weed,
Whose wounded bosom drinks her falling tears,
On whose pale cheek relentless sorrows feed,
Whose dreary way no sprightly carol cheers.

Not thus she breathed on Arno's purple shore,
And called the Tuscan Muses to her bowers;
Not this the robe in Enna's vale she wore,
When Ceres' daughter filled her lap with flowers.

Clouds behind clouds in long succession rise,
And heavy snows oppress the springing green;
The dazzling waste fatigues the aching eyes,
And Fancy droops beneath the' unvaried scene.

Indulgent Nature, loose this frozen zone;
Through opening skies let genial sunbeams play;
Dissolving snows shall their glad impulse own,
And melt upon the bosom of the May.