1818.     

            

            

            

            

       Vignettes.     

       I.     

             If writing Journals were my task,           

             From cottagers to kings—           

             A little book I'd only ask,           

             And fill it full of wings!           

                        

             Each pair should represent a day:           

             On some the sun should rise,           

             While others bent their mournful way           

             Through cold and cloudy skies.           

                        

             And here I would the light'ning bring           

             With threatening, forked glare;           

             And there the hallowed rainbow fling           

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