Page:Prometheus bound - Browning (1833).djvu/163

 Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth, Which once refresh'd our mind, Shall come—as, on those sighing woods, The chilling autumn wind.

Hear not the wind—view not the woods; Look out o'er vale and hill: In spring, the sky encircled them— The sky is round them still. Come autumn's scathe—come winter's cold— Come change—and human fate! Whatever prospect doth bound, Can ne'er be desolate.