As any bird upon a tree.
What joy, when hungry, ’tis to eat,
What pleasure in our daily meat;
How sweet, when sleep the eyelids close,
To sink in calm and soft repose.
What joy, as morn begins to break,
Refreshed and vigorous to wake—
To feel, amid the dews and flowers,
New life bestowed on all my powers.
But who bestows this constant joy