"'Tis dark, and the landscape is lovely no more,
" I mourn not, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you;
"For morn shall return, all your charms to restore,
" Perfum'd with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew:
"Nor yet for the ravage of Winter I mourn,
" Kind Nature the embryo blossoms shall save;
"But when shall Spring visit the mouldering urn?
" Oh, when shall it dawn on the gloom of the grave? "