Why should we think the years of life
Will pass serenely by,
When, for a day, the Sun himself
Ne'er sees a cloudless sky!
And, unassuming as she moves,
The meek-eyed Queen of night,
Meets wand'ring vapours in her path
To dim her paler light!
Then why should we in vain repine
At man's uncertain lot,
That cares will equally assail
The palace and the cot?
For Heaven ordains this chequer'd scene
Our mortal pow'rs t’ employ;
That we might know, compare, select,
Be grateful, and enjoy.