A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident tomorrows.
Delivered from the galling yoke of time.
The clouds that gather round the setting sun, Do take a sober colouring from an eye, That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality.
For nature then to me was all in all.
With battlements that on their restless fronts Bore stars.
Elysian beauty, melancholy grace, Brought from a pensive though a happy place.