Thus with the year / Seasons return, but not to me returns / Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or morn, / Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, / Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine.
For solitude is sometimes best society, And short retirement urges sweet return
But oh the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone and never must return!
A short retirement urges a sweet return.
Know thy birth! For dost thou art, and shalt to dust return.
There swift return Diurnal, merely to officiate light Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot.
Oft he seems to hide his face, / But unexpectedly returns / And to his faithful champion hath in place / Bore witness gloriously.