My Virtual Reading Room

Why, why repine, my friend,
At pleasures slipt 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.

(Walter S. Landor)