To Contemplation's Sober Eye. / Such Is

Sorrow's Faded Form, And Solitude Behind.

And Weep The More, Because I Weep In Vain.

Where Ignorance Is Bliss, 'tis Folly To Be Wise.

Visions Of Glory, Spare My Aching Sight! Ye Unborn Ages, Crowd Not On My Soul!

Implores The Passing Tribute Of A Sigh.