The marvels of all ages fled
Left to decay and thee!
And still let man his fabrics rear,
August in beauty, grace, and strength;
Days pass—thou ivy never sere![322]—
And all is thine at length!
[322] “Ye myrtles brown, and ivy never sere.”—Lycidas.
TO ONE OF THE AUTHOR’S CHILDREN ON HIS BIRTHDAY.
Where sucks the bee now? Summer is flying,
Leaves round the elm-tree faded are lying;