I wake, alas! and all are gone!
Yet, Tame, the theme of childish praise,
For thee were fram’d my earliest lays;
Thy banks of all were deem’d the pride,
Thy flowers, by none to be outvied.
Those days are past—and sad I view
The time I bade thee, Tame, adieu:
Those days are gone, and I have seen
Full many a river’s margent green;
Full many a bursting bud display