HENCE from my sight, unfeeling sage,
Hence, to thy lonely hermitage! —
There far remov'd from joy, and pain,
Supinely slumber life away;
Act o'er dull yesterday again,
And be thy morrow like to-day.
Rest to thy bones! — While to the gale
Happier I spread my festive wing,
And like the wandering bee exhale
Fresh odours from Life's honey'd spring;
From bloom to bloom in pleasing rapture stray,
Where Mirth invites, and Pleasure points the way.