Languid, and sad, and slow, from day to day <br />I journey on, yet pensive turn to view <br />(Where the rich landscape gleams with softer hue) <br />The streams and vales, and hills, that steal away. <br />So fares it with the children of the earth: <br />For when life's goodly prospect opens round, <br />Their spirits beat to tread that fairy ground, <br />Where every vale sounds to the pipe of mirth. <br />But them vain hope and easy youth beguiles, <br />And soon a longing look, like me, they cast <br />Back on the pleasing prospect of the past: <br />Yet Fancy points where still far onward smiles <br />Some sunny spot, and her fair colouring blends, <br />Till cheerless on their path the night descends!<br /><br />William Lisle Bowles<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-entering-switzerland/
