Imprisoned 'mid the formal props
Of restless ownership!
Ye trees, that may[276] to-morrow fall
To feed the insatiate Prodigal![277]
Lawns, houses, chattels, groves, and fields,
All that the fertile valley shields;[278]
Wages of folly—baits of crime,
Of life's uneasy game the stake,
Playthings that keep the eyes awake
Of drowsy, dotard Time;—