How dost thou soften Death's unkindly blow,

And halt his messenger upon the way! How dost thou unto Shame's swift herald say,

"Linger a little with thy weight of woe!"

How art thou, unto those whose joys o'erflow,

A stern highwayman, bidding passion stay,

Robbing the lover's pulses of their heat

Within the lonesome shelter of thy wood!

Of all Life's varied accidents we meet Where can we find so great an offered good?

Even the longed-for heaven might seem less sweet

Could we but hurry to it when we would.