A POEM.
[About 1779.]
Life is a Dream;—it steals upon the Man,
He knows not how, but thinks himself awake;
'Tis like a Bubble dancing on the Deep,
That turns its glossy surface to the Sun,
Catches a Rainbow-Vest, and sparkles, proud
Of momentary Being—then it breaks—
To some tremendous Billow drops a prey,
And joins th' eternal Source, from whence it sprang.