human
Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, Or signs of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine. But clouds instead, and ever-during dark Surround me.
gpt
Thou, to whom the world unknown, With all its shadowy shapes is shown, Who see'st appalled, th' unreal scene, While Fancy lifts the veil between, Ah, Fear! ah, frantic Fear! I see, I see thee near!