Than world-taught Reason, fondly speaks for me,
And bids thee love and trust, through cloud and shine,
The frail and fragile creature who would be
Naught here—hereafter—if not all to thee!
Thou call’st me changeful as the summer cloud,
And wayward as a wave, and light as air.
And I am all thou sayest—all, and worse;
But the wild cloud can weep, as well as lighten,
And the wave mirrors heaven, as my soul thee;
And the light air, that frolicks without thought