How oft, when nightly shades surround the sky,
Descending dews in languid silence weep,
Pleasure and Praise forsake the poet’s eye,
And Fancy droops in Indolence asleep!
Yet still, with retrospective glance, I trace
The fairy dreams that charm’d my youthful mind;
And as their forms, in memory’s glass, I find,
Life’s evening gleams with purest rays of grace.
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