Verse > Anthologies > William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. > The Book of Georgian Verse
William Stanley Braithwaite, ed.  The Book of Georgian Verse.  1909.
By Anne Hunter (1742–1821)
THE SEASON comes when first we met
  But you return no more;
Why cannot I the days forget,
  Which time can ne’er restore?
O days too sweet, too bright to last,        5
Are you indeed for ever past?
The fleeting shadows of delight,
  In memory I trace;
In fancy stop their rapid flight
  And all the past replace.        10
But ah! I wake to endless woes,
And tears the fading vision close!

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