Page:The Seasons - Thomson (1791).djvu/35



N yonder grave a Druid lies Where slowly winds the stealing wave! The year’s best sweets shall duteous rise To deck its Poet's sylvan grave! In yon deep bed of whispering reeds His airy harp shall now be laid, That he, whose heart in sorrow bleeds, May love thro' life the soothing shade. Then maids and youths shall linger here, And while its sounds at distance swell, Shall sadly seem in Pity’s ear, To hear the Woodland Pilgrim’s knell. Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore When Thames in summer wreaths is drest, And oft suspend the dashing oar To bid his gentle spirit rest! Rh