Survive, in age’s frost-work bright,
Youth’s vernal rose decay’d!
To grace the nymph whose tresses play
Light on the sportive breeze of May,
Let other bards the garland twine,
Where sweets of every hue combine;
Those locks revered, that silvery shine,
Invite my lay!
Less white the summer-cloud sublime,
Less white the winter’s fringing rime;