9.
‘Thou could'st afford nor good, nor bliss, nor mirth?’
Shortsighted! do you know what place was thine?
Or to what task th' Almighty did destine
A being, harmless as thou art, on earth?
O, Latent virtue bears the richest fruit!
The balmy dew, calm Night weeps o'er the flower,
Is far more sweet than many a heavy shower
To all the lovely daughters of the wood.