All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair-- br The bees are stirring--birds are on the wing-- br And WINTER slumbering in the open air, br Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring ! br And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing, br Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing. br br Yet well I ken the banks where Amaranths blow, br Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow. br Bloom, O ye Amaranths ! bloom for whom ye may, br For me ye bloom not ! Glide, rich streams, away ! br With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll : br And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul ? br WORK WITHOUT HOPE draws nectar in a sieve, br And HOPE without an object cannot live.