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THE ADIEU.
Adieu each fair and blooming scene, For Delia's feeble feet no moreShall press your turf's delightful green, Nor ramble by the winding shore.
Ye fragrant blossoms, never more Shall I inhale your sweet perfume,Nor wander at pale ev'ning's Lour Enjoying nature's solemn gloom.
Nor at the peep of early dawn Shall brush the dew-drops from the spray;Nor loiter through yon flow'ry lawn, Nor through the grove nor forest stray—
As when this form was wont to rove In sprightly health, and void of pain;When gayer blossoms deck'd each grove, And fresher verdure strew'd the plain!
But now with listless eye I see The Spring and all her charms return;In vain the Spring returns to me That weak with pain and sickness mourn.
