'Mid rustling trees, to please the ear and eye;
And all the darling child of fortune needs,
And all his dull, half-slumbering caution heeds,
While fairy eyes their watch above him keep,
Is breath to live and weariness to sleep.
But life's a cloud! and soon the smiling sky
May wear the unwelcome semblance of a frown,
And the fierce tempest, madly rushing by,
May raise its dripping wings, and strike him down!
When helpless infancy, for love or rest,