Goldsmith and Gray

Sweet odours and bright colours swiftly pass,
Swiftly as breath upon a looking-glass.
Byron, the schoolgirl's pet, has lived his day,
And the tall maypole scarce remembers May.
Thou, Nature, bloomest in perennial youth . .
Two only are eternal . . thou and Truth.
Who walks not with thee thro' the dim Churchyard?
Who wanders not with Erin's wandering bard?
Who sits not down with Auburn's pastor mild
To take upon his knee the shyest child?
These in all hearts will find a kindred place,
And live the last of our poetic race.