MY BIRTH-DAY.

Aldborough, December 24, 1778.

Through a dull tract of woe, of dread,

The toiling year has pass'd and fled:

And, lo! in sad and pensive strain,

I sing my birth-day date again.

Trembling and poor, I saw the light,

New waking from unconscious night;

Trembling and poor I still remain,

To meet unconscious night again.

Time in my pathway strews few flowers,

To cheer or cheat the weary hours;

And those few strangers, dear indeed,

Are choked, are check'd, by many a weed.