The bonds of union—pleasure, song, and wine.
Man, a gregarious creature, loves to fly
Where he the trackings of the herd can spy;
Still to be one with many he desires,
Although it leads him through the thorns and briers.
A few—but few—there are, who in the mind
Perpetual source of consolation find;
The weaker many to the world will come,
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For comforts seldom to be found from home.