The spring shall visit thee again,
Itchin! and yonder ancient fane,[45]
That casts its shadow on thy breast,
As if, by many winters beat,
The blooming season it would greet,
With many a straggling wild-flower shall be dressed.
But I, amid the youthful train
That stray at evening by thy side,
No longer shall a guest remain,
To mark the spring's reviving pride.
I go not unrejoicing; but who knows,
When I have shared, O world! thy common woes,
Returning I may drop some natural tears;
As these same fields I look around,
And hear from yonder dome[46] the slow bell sound,
And think upon the joys that crowned my stripling years!
[45] St Croix.
[46] The Cathedral.