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(Anacreontiques)
FOOLISH prater, what dost thou | |
| So early at my window do | |
| With thy tuneless serenade? | |
| Well’t had been had Tereus made | |
| Thee as dumb as Philomel; | 5 |
| There his knife had done but well. | |
| In thy undiscovered nest | |
| Thou dost all the winter rest, | |
| And dreamest o’er thy summer joys | |
| Free from the stormy seasons’ noise: | 10 |
| Free from th’ill thou’st done to me: | |
| Who disturbs, or seeks out thee? | |
| Hadst thou all the charming notes | |
| Of the wood’s poetic throats, | |
| All thy art could never pay | 15 |
| What thou’st ta’en from me away; | |
| Cruel bird, thou’st ta’en away | |
| A dream out of my arms to-day, | |
| A dream that ne’er must equal’d be | |
| By all that waking eyes may see. | 20 |
| Thou this damage to repair, | |
| Nothing half so sweet or fair, | |
| Nothing half so good can’st bring, | |
| Though men say, thou bring’st the Spring. | |
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