Alexander Pope

The balmy zephyrs, silent since her death,
Lament the ceasing of a sweeter breath.

The balmy zephyrs, silent since her death,
Lament the ceasing of a sweeter breath.

In cold December fragrant chaplets blow,
And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow.

In cold December fragrant chaplets blow,
And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow.

See the wild Waste of all-devouring years!
How Rome her own sad Sepulchre appears,
With nodding arches, read more

See the wild Waste of all-devouring years!
How Rome her own sad Sepulchre appears,
With nodding arches, broken temples spread!
The very Tombs now vanish'd like their dead!

Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style.
Amaze th' learn'd, and make the learned smile.

Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style.
Amaze th' learn'd, and make the learned smile.

Be niggards of advice on no pretense;
For the worst avarice is that of sense.

Be niggards of advice on no pretense;
For the worst avarice is that of sense.