Comes last. She rises every year on the 22nd of August, and goes to bed, in her golden palace of the East, on the 21st of September.
ODE TO LOVE.
WRITTEN ON ST. VALENTINE'S DAY.
Oh, Love! how potent is thy sway;
Thou'rt terrible indeed to most men!
But once a year there comes a day,
When thou tormentest chiefly postmen.
Oh, hard indeed the lot must be,
Of him who wears thy galling fetters!
But e'en more miserable he
Who must go round with all thy letters!