letra de anne kingsmill finch - consolation - ghizela rowe
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see, phoebus breaking from the willing skies
see, how the soaring lark, does with him rise
and through the air, is such a journey borne
as if she never thought of a return
now, to his noon, behold him proudly goe
and look with scorn, on all that’s great below
a monark he, and ruler of the day
a fav’rite she, that in his beams does play
glorious, and high, but shall they ever bee
glorious, and high, and fixt where now we see?
no, both must fall, nor can their stations keep
she to the earth, and he below the deep
at night both fall, but the swift hand of time
renews the morning, and again thеy climb
then let no cloudy change, crеate my sorrow
i’ll think ’tis night, and i may rise to-morrow
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