“His youth was innocent, [yes, I believe mine was innocent; not guilty, certainly,] his riper age
Marked with some act of goodness every day, [no, not every day—sometimes,]
And watched by eyes that loved him, calm and sage, [O, yes, watched by eyes that loved him; and O, how calm, but I cannot add sage,]
Faded his late declining years away.
Cheerful he gave his being up, and went
To share [he hopes] the holy rest that waits a life [he hopes] well spent.
“That life was happy; every day he gave
Thanks for the fair existence that was his; [yes, every morning, when I awoke and saw the beautiful sun rise, I thanked God that he had placed me in this beautiful world,]
For a sick fancy made him not her slave,
To mock him with her phantom miseries.