As odorous trees no balm will yield,
Till from their wounds it flows.
But fear not thou the lesson fraught
With Sorrow’s chastening power to know;
Thou need’st not thus be sternly taught
“To melt at others’ woe.”
Then still, with heart as blest, as warm,
Rejoice thou in thy lot on earth;
Ah! why should Virtue dread the storm,
If sunbeams prove her worth?