O solitary wand'rer! whither stray From the smooth path the dimpled pleasures love, From flowery meadow, and embowering grove, Where hope and fancy smiling, lead the way! To thee, I ween, full tedious seems the day; While lorn and slow the devious path you rove, Sighing soft sorrows on the garland wove By young desire, of blossoms sweetly gay! Oh! blossoms! frail and fading! like the morn Of love's first rapture! beauteous all, and pure, Deep hid beneath your charms lies misery's thorn, To bid the feeling breast a pang endure! Then check thy wand'rings, weary and forlorn, And find in friendship's balm sick passion's cure. |