OH ! is it dreaming folly
That thus my mind deludes?
Or listless melancholy
Unbidden that intrudes?
Why sinks this soul of pleasure
That once could tower away,
And revel without measure
In realms of brightest day?
'Tis gaiety, that wasted
Leaves me and sickening flies;
'Tis pensiveness has hasted
To bid my heart be wise;
'Tis indolence unsteady
That claims a right to grieve,
Because no joy is ready
Its languors to deceive.
'Tis rain and sullen weather,
That chill me and annoy;--

'Tis--oh, 'tis all together
That thus my bliss destroy!
At noon the lark was singing;
Yon lake with sunshine warm;
Look, how those clouds are bringing
Their odious heaps of storm.
Alas! what vain delusion
Can all these follies name--
Oh, rise my cheek's confusion!
Oh, sink my heart with shame!
That heart each joy possessing,
That toils itself to tease;
And turns from every blessing,
Fantastic with its ease.
Ye heirs of want and sorrow,
Oh, rise upon my view!
And let my fancy borrow
Reproof and awe from you.
Oh, let me wake and hasten
To haunts of real pain,
And into silence chasten
The follies I disdain.