Each sorrow is tempered with something of sweet,
And the crag, while it frowns, shows a niche for the feet.
There are charms in the verdure which nature has spread,
And the sky shows a glory of stars overhead,
And the zephyrs of summer have voices to woo,
As well as to bear the perfumes from the dew;
There are gushes of transport in dreams of the night,
When memory garners its thoughts of delight,
And the soul seeks its kindred, and noiselessly speaks,
In the smiles and the blushes of health-blooming cheeks.