What though my winged hours of bliss have been, Like angel visits, few and far between.

Whose lines are mottoes of the heart,Whose truths electrify the sage.

But sad as angels for the good man's sin, Weep to record, and blush to give it in.

O star-eyed Science, hast thou wander'd there, To waft us home the message of despair?

His faithful dog salutes the smiling guest.

To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.

A stoic of the woods,--a man without a tear.