And you must love him, ere to you He will seem worthy of your love.
We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.
Pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find.
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind.
The tears into his eyes were brought, And thanks and praises seemed to run So fast out of his heart, I thought They never would have done. -I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning; Alas! the gratitude of men Hath oftener left me mourning.