Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 1.djvu/72

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56

Oh state of happiness! hark how the galeMoans deep and hollow o'er the leafless grove!  Winter is dark and cold—  Where now the charms of Spring?
Sayst thou that Fancy paints the future sceneIn hues too sombrous? that the dark-stol'd Maid  With stern and frowning front  Appals the shuddering soul?
And wouldst thou bid me court her faery formWhen, as she sports her in some happier mood,  Her many-colour'd robes  Dance varying to the Sun?
Ah vainly does the Pilgrim, whose long roadLeads o'er the barren mountain's storm-vex'd height,  With anxious gaze survey  The fruitful far-off vale.
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