Still Fancy paints, with Nature’s pen,
Such tints as never can decay.
II.
Hast thou not seen, at ev’ning hour,
When Phœbus sunk beneath the main,
Reclin’d in some sequester’d bow’r,
The village maid, or shepherd swain?
III.
Hast thou not mark’d them cull with care
Some favour’d flow’ret from the rest,