English poem
To The Reverend Mr. Newton
AN INVITATION INTO THE COUNTRY.
The swallows in their torpid state Compose their useless wing, And bees in hives as idly wait The call of early Spring.
The keenest frost that binds the stream, The wildest wind that blows, Are neither felt nor fear'd by them, Secure of their repose.
But man, all feeling and awake, The gloomy scene surveys; With present ills his heart must ache, And pant for brighter days.
Old Winter, halting o'er the mead, Bids me and Mary mourn; But lovely Spring peeps o'er his head, And whispers your return.
Then April, with her sister May, Shall chase him from the bowers, And weave fresh garlands every day, To crown the smiling hours.
And if a tear that speaks regret Of happier times, appear, A glimpse of joy, that we have met, Shall shine, and dry the tear.
CATHARINA.
More by William Cowper
- To The Rev. John Newton.[256]
- To The Rev. Mr. Newton, On His Return From Ramsgate.
- To The Rev. W. Cawthorne Unwin.
- To The Rev. William Bull.
- To The Reverend Mr. Newton. An Invitation Into The Country.
- To The Same. (Lines Addressed To Miss Theodora Jane Cowper.)
- To The Spanish Admiral Count Gravina, On His Translating The Author's Song On A Rose Into Italian Verse.
- To Warren Hastings, Esq. By An Old Schoolfellow Of His At Westminster.