THE SHOWER.
1 'Twas so; I saw thy birth. That drowsy lake
From her faint bosom breathed thee, the disease
Of her sick waters, and infectious ease.
But now at even,
Too gross for heaven,
Thou fall'st in tears, and weep'st for thy mistake.
2 Ah! it is so with me; oft have I pressed
Heaven with a lazy breath; but fruitless this
Pierced not; love only can with quick access
Unlock the way,
When all else stray,
The smoke and exhalations of the breast.
3 Yet if, as thou dost melt, and, with thy train
Of drops, make soft the earth, my eyes could weep
O'er my hard heart, that's bound up and asleep,
Perhaps at last,
Some such showers past,
My God would give a sunshine after rain.