lirik lagu richard mitchley - ode on the spring - thomas gray
lo! where the rosy~bosom’d hours
fair venus’ train appear
disclose the long~expecting flowers
and wake the purple year!
the attic warbler pours her throat
responsive to the cuckoo’s note
the untaught harmony of spring:
while whisp’ring pleasure as they fly
cool zephyrs thro’ the clear blue sky
their gather’d fragrance fling
where’er the oak’s thick branches stretch
a broader, browner shade;
where’er the rude and moss~grown beech
o’er~canopies the glade
beside some water’s rushy brink
with me the muse shall sit, and think
(at ease reclin’d in rustic state)
how vain the ardour of the crowd
how low, how little are the proud
how indigent the great!
still is the toiling hand of care:
the panting herds repose:
yet hark, how thro’ the peopled air
the busy murmur glows!
the insect youth are on the wing
eager to taste the honied spring
and float amid the liquid noon:
some lightly o’er the current skim
some show their gaily~gilded trim
quick~glancing to the sun
to contemplation’s sober eye
such is the race of man:
and they that creep, and they that fly
shall end where they began
alike the busy and the gay
but flutter thro’ life’s little day
in fortune’s varying colours drest:
brush’d by the hand of rough mischance
or chill’d by age, their airy dance
they leave, in dust to rest
methinks i hear in accents low
the sportive kind reply:
poor moralist! and what art thou?
a solitary fly!
thy joys no glitt’ring female meets
no hive hast thou of h~~rded sweets
no painted plumage to display:
on hasty wings thy youth is flown;
thy sun is set, thy spring is gone—
we frolic, while ’tis may
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