Inscriptions - Supposed To Be Found In And Near A Hermit's Cell, 1818 - I

Hopes what are they? Beads of morning Strung on slender blades of grass; Or a spider's web adorning In a strait and treacherous pass. What are fears but voices airy? Whispering harm where harm is not; And deluding the unwary Till the fatal bolt is shot! What is glory? in the socket See how dying tapers fare! What is pride? a whizzing rocket That would emulate a star. What is friendship? do not trust her, Nor the vows which she has made; Diamonds dart their brightest lustre From a palsy-shaken head. What is truth? a staff rejected; Duty? an unwelcome clog; Joy? a moon by fits reflected In a swamp or watery bog; Bright, as if through ether steering, To the Traveller's eye it shone: He hath hailed it re-appearing, And as quickly it is gone; Such is Joy, as quickly hidden, Or mis-shapen to the sight, And by sullen weeds forbidden To resume its native light. What is youth? a dancing billow, (Winds behind, and rocks before!) Age? a drooping, tottering willow On a flat and lazy shore. What is peace? when pain is over, And love ceases to rebel, Let the last faint sigh discover That precedes the passing knell!