That for these hapless beings man had twined
A fadeless wreath to make their sorrows less.
And then I feared, like sunbeams of the morn
Which spoil the frost-work they awhile adorn,
That rays of light might render more forlorn
The expanding bosoms they were meant to cheer.
I feared those glittering beams would vainly show
That the best charms of life they ne’er could know,
“The feast of reason and the soul’s calm flow,”
The witchery of sound, the bliss to hear.