Sonnet
[
on
the
Death
of
Mr
Richard
West
]
In
vain
to
me
the
smiling
mornings
shine
,
And
reddening
Phoebus
lifts
his
golden
fire
:
The
birds
in
vain
their
amorous
descant
join
,
Or
cheerful
fields
resume
their
green
attire
:
These
ears
,
alas
!
for
other
notes
repine
,
A
different
object
do
these
eyes
require
.
My
lonely
anguish
melts
no
heart
but
mine
;
And
in
my
breast
the
imperfect
joys
expire
.
Yet
morning
smiles
the
busy
race
to
cheer
,
And
new-born
pleasure
brings
to
happier
men
:
The
fields
to
all
their
wonted
tribute
bear
;
To
warm
their
little
loves
the
birds
complain
.
I
fruitless
mourn
to
him
that
cannot
hear
,
And
weep
the
more
because
I
weep
in
vain
.