Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor.

And moody madness laughing wild Amid severest woe.

Low on his funeral couch he lies!

Alas, regardless of their doom, the little victims play! No sense have they of ills to come nor care beyond today.

Where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.

Scatter plenty o'er a smiling land.

In the evening, I walked alone down to the Lake by the side of Crow Park after sunset and saw the solemn coloring of night draw on, the last gleam of sunshine fading away on the hilltops, the seep serene of the asters, and the long shadows of the mountains thrown across them, till they nearly touched the hithermost shore. At distance hear the murmur of many waterfalls not audible in the day-time. Wished for the moon, but she was dark to me and silent, hid in her vacant interlunar cave.