Among the crooked lanes, on every hedge, The glow-worm lights his gem; and through the dark, A moving radiance twinkles.

When evening closes Nature's eye, The glow-worm lights her little spark To captivate her favorite fly And tempt the rover through the dark.

While I deduce, From the first note the hollow cuckoo sings, The symphony of spring.

Cruel as death, and hungry at the grave.

'Tis silence all, And pleasing expectation.

Base envy withers at another's joy, And hates that excellence it cannot reach.