The stain'd and ruffled plume,
Would seem as if they were not meant
Their ardour to resume.

But soon their beauty and their force
Sweet hours of rest renew;
Full soon their light, their varied course
Careering they pursue.

Alternately to rise and fall,
Or float along the day--
And this is Fortune--This is all
I would vouchsafe to say!




II.


Lucy, I think not of thy beauty,
I praise not each peculiar grace;
To see thee in the path of duty,
And with that happy, smiling face,
Conveys more pleasure to thy friend,
Than any outward charm could lend.

I see thy graceful babes caress thee,
I mark thy wise, maternal care,
And sadly do the words impress me,