Wednesday, January 05, 2005

Art thou less beautiful, or I more dull?
O Nature, once my passion and delight,
How shall I win thee? Is thy promise null?
Or have I forfeited my ancient right?
By me thy skiey splendours are unwatched,
By me thy changeful year unheeded flies,
Glories of sunrise, or of eve unmatched,--
Changes but new delights to lovers' eyes.
Time was, I thought, that thou to me hadst given
The dearest boon imparted from above,
The greener meadow and the bluer heaven,
With the deep heart of wonder and of love.
But now, the sharer of a common lot,
I only wonder that I wonder not.

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