| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
364 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF
His rising cares the Hermit spied, With answering care opprest;
" And whence, unhappy youth," he cried, " The sorrows of thy breast ?
"From better habitations spurned,
Reluctant dost thou rove ? Or grieve for friendship unreturned,
Or unregarded love ?
"Alas ! the joys that fortune brings
Are trifling, and decay; And those who prize the paltry things
More trifling still than they.
" And what is friendship but a name, A charm that lulls to sleep;
A shade that follows wealth or fame, And leaves the wretch to weep ?
" And love is still an emptier sound, The modern fair one's jest:
On earth unseen, or only found To warm the turtle's nest.
" For shame, fond youth ! thy sorrows hush, And spurn the sex," he said;
But while he spoke, a rising blush His lovelorn guest betrayed.
Surprised, he sees new beauties rise, Swift mantling to the view:
Like colors o'er the morning skies, As bright, as transient too. |
||