Resignation

 WHY, why repine, my pensive friend, 
 At pleasures slipp'd away? 
Some the stern Fates will never lend, 
 And all refuse to stay.
 

I see the rainbow in the sky, 
 The dew upon the grass; 
I see them, and I ask not why 
 They glimmer or they pass.
 

With folded arms I linger not 
 To call them back; 'twere vain: 
In this, or in some other spot, 
 I know they'll shine again.

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