James Thomson (1)

A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate
Of mighty monarchs.

A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate
Of mighty monarchs.

While I deduce,
From the first note the hollow cuckoo sings,
The symphony of spring.

While I deduce,
From the first note the hollow cuckoo sings,
The symphony of spring.

Her polish'd limbs,
Veil'd in a simple robe, their best attire;
Beyond the pomp of dress; for read more

Her polish'd limbs,
Veil'd in a simple robe, their best attire;
Beyond the pomp of dress; for Loveliness
Needs not the foreign aid of ornament,
But is, when unadorn'd the most.

Invite the rook who high amid the boughs,
In early spring, his airy city builds,
And ceaseless read more

Invite the rook who high amid the boughs,
In early spring, his airy city builds,
And ceaseless caws amusive.

When autumn scatters his departing gleams,
Warn'd of approaching winter, gather'd, play
The swallow-people; and toss'd wide read more

When autumn scatters his departing gleams,
Warn'd of approaching winter, gather'd, play
The swallow-people; and toss'd wide around,
O'er the calm sky, in convolution swift,
The feather'd eddy floats; rejoicing once,
Ere to their wintry slumbers they retire.