Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound,
Beneath the freshening wind.
Where waving woods and waters wild
Though the same wind now blows around,
Which once refreshd our mind,
Hear not the wind -- view not the woods;
The summer flowers depart --
Oh! like that wind, is all the mirth
Do hymn an autumn sound.
We cannot bear its visitings,
The chilling autumn wind.
How there you sat in summer-time,
For every breath that stirs the trees,
Their presence may be oer;
Look out oer vale and hill-
When Sorrow is asleep;
Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth,
Shall come -- as, on those sighing woods,
In spring, the sky encircled them --
The sky is round them still.
Doth cause a leaf to fall.
Except your musing heart.
And how you heard the green woods sing