When the bleak winds blow hollow o'er the rock,
In autumn's gloom!—So Virtue, a fair flow'r,
Blooms on the rock of care, and though unseen,
It smiles in cold seclusion, and remote
From the world's flaunting fellowship, it wears
Like hermit Piety, that smile of peace,
In sickness, or in health, in joy or tears,
In summer-days, or cold adversity;
And still it feels Heav'n's breath, reviving, steal
On its lone breast—feels the warm blessedness