Sonnet, me the smilking Mornings shine, to me vain to redning Phabus lifts his golden Fire: The Birds in vain their amorous Descan't joyn; their green green Attin Or chearful Fields resume And in And in my Breast es no Heart, but min the imperfect Joy's expire Yet Morning smiles the be smiles the busy Race to Pleasure brings to happier brings to happier Men bear And new-born Pleasure brings to In to him, that connot hear, mourn And weep the more, because because I weep in vain. * in vain. at Stoke Ang FACSIMILE OF SONNET TO RICHARD WEST. THE WORKS OF THOMAS GRAY En Prose and Verse EDITED BY EDMUND GOSSE CLARK LECTURER ON ENGLISH LITERATURE AT THE IN FOUR VOLS. – VOL. IV. NOTES ON ARISTOPHANES AND PLATO London MACMILLAN AND CO. 1884 |