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3.

TO A FRIEND,

COMPOSED NEAR

CALAIS,

On the Road leading to Ardres, August 7th, 1802.

Jones! when from Calais southward you and ITravell'd on foot together; then this Way,Which I am pacing now, was like the MayWith festivals of new-born Liberty:A homeless sound of joy was in the Sky;The antiquated Earth, as one might say,Beat like the heart of Man: songs, garlands, play,Banners, and happy faces, far and nigh!And now, sole register that these things were,Two solitary greetings have I heard,"Good morrow, Citizen!" a hollow word,As if a dead Man spake it! Yet despairI feel not: happy am I as a Bird:Fair seasons yet will come, and hopes as fair.
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