How gaily is our Life begun
Our life's uncertain race!
Whilst yet that sprightly morning sun,
With which we just set out to run,
Enlightens all the place.
How soft the first Ideas prove.
Which wander through our minds!
How full the joys, how free the love.
Which doth that early season move;
As flowers the western winds! .mw-parser-output .wst-pline{color:#2E8B57;font-size:83%}.mw-parser-output .wst-pline-default2{margin-left:1em}.mw-parser-output .wst-pline-r{float:right;text-indent:0;margin-left:1em}.mw-parser-output .wst-pline-l{float:left;text-align:right;margin-left:-3em;width:2.5em}.mw-parser-output .wst-pline-or{float:right;text-align:right;margin-right:-3em;width:2.5em}.mw-parser-output .wst-pline-n{font-style:normal}.mw-parser-output .wst-pline-i{font-style:italic}10
Our sighs are then but vernal air;
But April drops our tears,
Which swiftly passing, all grows fair,
Whilst beauty compensates our care,
And youth each vapour clears.
But O! too soon alas, we climb;
Scarce feeling we ascend
The gently-rising hill of Time,
From whence with grief we see that prime,
And all its sweetness end. 20