1 <br /> <br />Blow, blow, thou vernal gale! <br />Thy balm will not avail <br />To ease my aching breast; <br />Though thou the billows smooth, <br />Thy murmurs cannot soothe <br />My weary soul to rest. <br /> <br /> <br />2 <br /> <br />Flow, flow, thou tuneful stream! <br />Infuse the easy dream <br />Into the peaceful soul; <br />But thou canst not compose <br />The tumult of my woes, <br />Though soft thy waters roll. <br /> <br /> <br />3 <br /> <br />Blush, blush, ye fairest flowers! <br />Beauties surpassing yours <br />My Rosalind adorn; <br />Nor is the Winter's blast, <br />That lays your glories waste, <br />So killing as her scorn. <br /> <br /> <br />4 <br /> <br />Breathe, breathe, ye tender lays, <br />That linger down the maze <br />Of yonder winding grove; <br />O let your soft control <br />Bend her relenting soul <br />To pity and to love. <br /> <br /> <br />5 <br /> <br />Fade, fade, ye flowerets fair! <br />Gales, fan no more the air! <br />Ye streams, forget to glide; <br />Be hush'd each vernal strain; <br />Since nought can soothe my pain, <br />Nor mitigate her pride.<br /><br />James Beattie<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/song-in-imitation-of-shakspeare-s/
