All that we behold is full of blessings.
Poetry is the outcome of emotions recollected in tranquility.
To be a Prodigal's favourite,-then, worse truth, A Miser's pensioner,-behold our lot!
A youth to whom was given So much of earth, so much of heaven.
The gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul.
For all things are less dreadful than they seem.