In this chill morning of a wintry Spring
I look into the gloom'd and rainy vale;
The sullen clouds, the stormy winds assail,
Lour on the fields, and with impetuous wing
Disturb the lake:—but Love and Memory cling
To their known scene, in this cold influence pale;
Yet priz'd, as when it bloom'd in Summer's gale,
Ting'd by his setting sun.—When Sorrows fling,
Or slow Disease, thus, o'er some beauteous Form
Their shadowy languors, Form, devoutly dear
As thine to me, HONORA, with more warm
And anxious gaze the eyes of Love sincere
Bend on the charms, dim in their tintless snow,
Than when with health's vermilion hues they glow.