Note 9 — Chapter XII
Reading edition
Delightful spring! youth of the year, Thou blooming mother of the opening flowers, The fresh'ning verdure, and the new-born loves— Thou now returnest! But no second spring Will e'er return of those serene delights, That bless'd my fleeting hours of happiness— Thou now return'st! But with thee nought returns To my sad thoughts but renovated sorrow, And bitter mem'ry of departed joys.