'In vain to me the smiling mornings shine, And reddening Phoebus lifts his golden fire; The birds in vain and amorous descant join, Or cheerful fields resume their green attire. These ears, alas! for other notes repine; 'A different object do these eyes require; My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine; And in my breast the imperfect joys expire;' Yet morning smiles the busy race to cheer, And new-born pleasure brings to happier men; The fields to all their wanted tribute bear; To warm their little loves the birds complain. 'I... Show more 'In vain to me the smiling mornings shine, And reddening Phoebus lifts his golden fire; The birds in vain and amorous descant join, Or cheerful fields resume their green attire. These ears, alas! for other notes repine; 'A different object do these eyes require; My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine; And in my breast the imperfect joys expire;' Yet morning smiles the busy race to cheer, And new-born pleasure brings to happier men; The fields to all their wanted tribute bear; To warm their little loves the birds complain. 'I fruitless mourn to him that cannot hear, And weep the more because I weep in vain.' — Thomas Gray Show less
'In vain to me the smiling mornings shine, And reddening Phoebus lifts his golden fire; The birds in vain and amorous descant join, Or cheerful fields resume their green attire. These ears, alas! for other notes repine; 'A different object do these eyes require; My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine; And in my breast the imperfect joys expire;' Yet morning smiles the busy race to cheer, And new-born pleasure brings to happier men; The fields to all their wanted tribute bear; To warm their little loves the birds complain. 'I fruitless mourn to him that cannot hear, And weep the more because I weep in vain.' — Thomas Gray
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