Why, Why Repine, My Pensive Friend, At Pleasures Slipp'D Away? Some The Stern Fates Will Never Lend, And All Refuse To Stay. I See The Rainbow In The Sky, The Dew Upon The Grass, I See Them, And I Ask Not Why They Glimmer Or They Pass. With Folded Arms I Linger Not To Call Them Back; 'Twere Vain; In This, Or In Some Other Spot, I Know They'll Shine Again.