In vain their gifts the bounteous seasons pour,
The fruit autumnal and the vernal flow’r;
With listless eyes the dotard views the store:
He views, and wonders that they please no more.
Now pall the tasteless meats and joyless wines,
And Luxury with sighs her slave resigns.
Johnson, The Vanity of Human Wishes, 1749
(2) Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,
And still where many a garden flower grows wild:
There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,