Child of a day, and changeling of an hour!
Man, feeblest tuning of love’s scarce-heard pipe;
The abyss, that voids despair, burns to deflower
With death thy hopes, with time thy thoughts unripe.
Yet know, rejoice, ’tis Nature guides the change;
Joy, beauty, truth, wing her transparent feet:
No toy thou art, nor left to lonely range;
Reward grows stronger from its oft defeat:
Whate’er thy utmost joy can comprehend;
What godlike beauty hath once thrill’d thy soul;
What love has ever stamp’d truth as his end:
Such joy, beauty, truth, love, are Nature’s goal:
Shall Nature gladden only to deceive?
Should man the atom more than God conceive?