In summer bowers?
What, weeping still? believe ’tis folly
To give full way to melancholy.
Youth should be as an April day,
Then smiles should chase those tears away;
For if in youth deep sorrows come,
Oh, where shall mem’ry find a home,
In after years,
To linger on, and raise a smile,
Amidst the world’s deceit and guile,