Fainting upon his Phœbe’s breast.
TO ⸺.
Revolving years another May-day bring;
Earth at this bridal season’s glad return
Blooms forth again in bridal robes of spring,
Expectant, waiting, trembling, all things yearn.
Cries then aloud the voice I thought was slain,
Calls as of yore my stormy deep to thine;