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ON REALITY.
#1
The autumn clouds were rolling through the sky
By chilling winds thus prematurely driv'n
I watch'd a lovelily deck'd butterfly
Appear, as if beneath a radiant Heav'n,

It ill agrees with thy transparent form
I thought, to endure th' ungenial breath
Which to thy fellow-rovers wafted death
To them decisive as th' unsparing storm ;

Art thou like those who as if will not die
Altho' the tempest has burst o'er each head
And like the shatter'd bark that waves defy
Still drifting on tho' cv'ry hope has fled,
The mind ; almost as dissolution dead
And thus to its absorbing pow'r for over nigh?
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