And I am happy when I sing.
To be young was very heaven!
Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity.
Society became my glittering bride, And airy hopes my children.
Wisdom married to immortal verse.
The Poet, gentle creature as he is, Hath, like the Lover, his unruly times; His fits when he is neither sick nor well, Though no distress be near him but his own Unmanageable thoughts.