Juvenilia.
XXXI ON MY DAUGHTER'S MARRIAGE
O born when over my poor roof did pass
hope like a homeless, wandering nightingale,
and I, disdainful of the present world,
knocked fretful at the portals of the morrow;
now that I stand as at my journey's end,
and see around my threshold flocking come,
in turn, the jackdaws' noisy company,
screaming their flattering plaudits at my door;