Joy behind joy, in endless perspective!

Till at death’s toll, whose restless iron tongue

Calls daily for his millions at a meal,

Starting I woke, and found myself undone.

Where now my phrensy’s pompous furniture?

The cobwebb’d cottage, with its ragged wall

Of mouldering mud, is royalty to me!

The spider’s most attenuated thread

Is cord, is cable, to man’s tender tie

On earthly bliss; it breaks at every breeze. 180