Fair promis'd sunbeams of terrestrial bliss,
Health's gallant hopes, ... and are ye sunk to this?
For in life's road though thorns abundant grow,
There still are joys poor Poll can never know;
Joys which the gay companions of her prime
Sip, as they drift along the stream of time;
At eve to hear beside their tranquil home
The lifted latch, that speaks the lover come:
love matur'd, next playful on the knee
To press the velvet lip of infancy;
To stay the tottering step, the features trace; ...
Inestimable sweets of social peace!