“Man is such a marigold
As shuts, and hangs the head.”
Clouds, seasons, and the eternal stars are his playfellows; he apostrophizes our sister the rainbow, and reminds her of yesterday, when
“Terah, Nahor, Haran, Abram, Lot,
The youthful world’s grey fathers, in one knot,”
lifted anxious looks to her new splendor. He is familiar with the depression which comes from boding weather, when
“a pilgrim’s eye,
Far from relief,
Measures the melancholy sky.”