WHERE are the joys I have met in the morning,
That danc'd to the lark's early song?
Where is the peace that awaited my wandring
At evening the wild-woods among?
No more a winding the course of yon river,
And marking sweet flowerets so fair,
No more I trace the light footsteps of Pleasure,
But Sorrow and sad-sighing Care.-----
Is it that Summer 's forsaken our vallies,
And grim, surly Winter is near?
No, no! the bees humming round the gay roses
Proclaim it the pride of the year.-----
Fain wad I hide, what I fear to discover,
Yet long, long too well hae I known:
All that has caused the wreck in my bosom
Is Jenny, fair Jenny alone.-----
Time cannot aid me, my griefs are immortal,
Not Hope dare a comfort bestow:
Come then, enamour'd and fond of my anguish,
Enjoyment I'll seek in my woe.--------