Or to the infant’s cheek—
Whilst rocking in the nursling cot;
Thence to the orchard creek;
Perchance o’er housetops high and low,
Against the village spire,
Or through the fane he deigns to go
And scans the sacred choir;
Then saunters o’er the lonely grave,
Where mingle rich and poor:
Now off again to the crested wave;