* * * * * *
Tost to and fro, our frighted thoughts are driv’n
With ev’ry puff, with ev’ry tide
Of life-consuming care;
Our peaceful flame, that would point up to heav’n
Is still disturb’d and turn’d aside;
And ev’ry blast of air
Commits such waste in man, as man cannot repair.
* * * * * *
What may this sorrow-shaken life present