To Leigh Hunt, Esq

Glory and loveliness have pass'd away;

      For if we wander out in early morn,

      No wreathèd incense do we see upborne

Into the east, to meet the smiling day:

No crowd of nymphs soft-voic'd and young, and gay,

      In woven baskets bringing ears of corn,

      Roses, and pinks, and violets, to adorn

The shrine of Flora in her early May.

But there are left delights as high as these,

      And I shall ever bless my destiny,

That in a time, when under pleasant trees

      Pan is no longer sought, I feel a free,

A leafy luxury, seeing I could please

      With these poor offerings, a man like thee.