Far where the moon along the sky
Sails with her happy destiny;
Often it is hidden from her mortal eyes
Or dimly seen,
But when the clouds asunder fly
How bright her mien !!
Far different from this froward race,
Thousands though rich in fortune's grace
With cherished sullenness of pace
Their way pursue,
Ungrateful who wear a smileless face
The whole year through.
If kin humours ever would make
My spirit droop for drooping's sake,
From fancy following in thy wake,
Bright ship of heaven!
A counter impulse let me take
And be forgiven.
