The early Year's fast-flying Vapours stray In shadowing Trains across the orb of Day: And we, poor Insects of a few short Hours, Deem it a world of Gloom. Were it not better hope a nobler doom, Proud to believe that with more active powers On rapid many-coloured Wing We thro' one bright perpetual Spring Shall hover round the Fruits and Flowers Screen'd by those Clouds and cherish'd by those Showers! |