Stoop to thy great appointment, and obey
That will which nought avails me to gainsay.
For whilst in sorrow's maze I wander on,
I do but follow life's vocation.
Sure we were made to grieve: at our first birth,
With cries we took possession of the earth;
And though the lucky man reputed be
Fortune's adopted son, yet only he
Is Nature's true-born child, who sums his years
30(Like me) with no arithmetic but tears.