It Is No Great Misfortune To Oblige

And These Are Joys, Like Beauty, But Skin Deep.

How Slight A Chance May Raise Or Sink A Soul!

It Is Fine To Stand Upon Some Lofty Mountain Thought, And Feel The Spirit Stretch Into A View.

The Wind Breathes Not, And The Wave Walks Softly As Above A Grave.

It Is Sad To See The Light Of Beauty Wane Away, Know Eyes Are Dimming, Bosoms Shrivelling, Feet Losing Their Springs, And Limbs Their Lily Roundness; But It Is Worse To Feel The Heart-spring Gone, To Lose Hope, Care Not For The Coming Thing, And Feel All Things Go To Decay Within Us.