Youth Smiles Without Any Reason. It Is

When Love Could Teach A Monarch To Be Wise, And Gospel-light First Dawn'd From Bullen's Eyes.

Implores The Passing Tribute Of A Sigh.

Far From The Madding Crowd's Ignoble Strife.

To Contemplation's Sober Eye, Such Is The Race Of Man; And They That Creep, And They That Fly, Shall End Where They Began, Alike The Busy And The Gay, But Flutter Through Life's Little Day.

I Shall Be But A Shrimp Of An Author.