No more, ye warbling birds! rejoice: <br />Of all that cheer'd the plain, <br />Echo alone preserves her voice, <br />And she-repeats my pain. <br /> <br />Where'er my lovesick limbs I lay <br />To shun the rushing wind, <br />Its busy murmurs seem to say, <br />'She never will be kind!' <br /> <br />The Naiads, o'er their frozen urns, <br />In icy chains repine; <br />And each in sullen silence mourns <br />Her freedom lost, like mine! <br /> <br />Soon will the sun's returning rays <br />The cheerless frost control; <br />When will relenting Delia chase <br />The winter of my soul?<br /><br />William Shenstone<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/song-xiii-winter/
