Our torments also may in length of time Become our Elements.
In those vernal seasons of the year when the air is calm and pleasant, it were an injury and sullenness against nature not to go out and see her riches, and partake in her rejoicing with heaven and earth.
Was I deceiv'd, or did a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night?
Morn, Wak'd by the circling hours, with rosy hand Unbarr'd the gates of light.
With thee conversing I forget all time.
To many a youth and many a maid, dancing in the chequer'd shade.