Poem by William Lisle Bowles

To a Friend

Go, then, and join the murmuring city's throng!
Me thou dost leave to solitude and tears;
To busy phantasies, and boding fears,
Lest ill betide thee; but 't will not be long
Ere the hard season shall be past; till then
Live happy; sometimes the forsaken shade
Remembering, and these trees now left to fade;
Nor, mid the busy scenes and hum of men,
Wilt thou my cares forget: in heaviness
To me the hours shall roll, weary and slow,
Till mournful autumn past, and all the snow
Of winter pale, the glad hour I shall bless
That shall restore thee from the crowd again,
To the green hamlet on the peaceful plain.

1. Cadland, Southampton River
2. Picture of an Old Man
3. Greenwich Hospital
4. Sonnet 14. On a Distant View of England
5. Banwell Hill

John Pierpont To a Friend ("Friend of my dark and solitary hour")

Print

1381 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version