The large wild bees upon the labouring wing.
Then comes the Summer with augmented pride, 80
Whose pure small streams along the valleys glide;
Her richer Flora their brief charms display,
And, as the fruit advances, fall away.
Then shall th’ autumnal yellow clothe the leaf,
What time the reaper binds the burden’d sheaf;
Then silent groves denote the dying year,
The morning frost, and noon-tide gossamer;
And all be silent in the scene around—