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How like | a wint|er hath | my ab|sence been
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From thee,| the pleas|ure of | the fleet|ing
year?
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What freez/ings have I | felt, what | dark
days seen?
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What old | Decem|ber's bare|ness eve|rywhere?
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And yet | this time | removed | was sum|mer's
time,
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The teem|ing aut|umn big | with rich | increase,
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Bearing | the want|on burd|en of | the prime,
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Like^wid|owed wombs | after | their lords' |
decease:
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Yet this | abun|dant is|sue seemed | to me
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But hope | of orph|ans, and | unfath|ered fruit,
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For sum|mer and | his pleas|ures wait | on thee,
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And thou | away,| the ve|ry birds | are mute:
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Or if | they sing,| 'tis with | so dull | a
cheer,
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That leaves | look* pale,| dreading | the
wint|er's near.