Give also tones of sadness.
Shine bright, young Summer, o'er the earth,
And fill the land with laughter;—
Soon Autumn comes to mar thy mirth,
And winter follows after.
Burn high, fair hope, within the breast,
By pleasant things attended;—
Misdoubt and fear do still molest
Our life, till it is ended.
Fill slow, oh! Time, the rounded cup