Eclipse, The. Jan. 24, 1804

See the moon in all its glory
Clear, and full and silvery white;
Dearest Tom would sure be sorry
Not to see so sweet a sight.

See how clear the heavens surround her,
All of deepest, purest blue;
All serene, no clouds around her,
Calm, dear boy, and mild as you.

Scarce a little hour is over,
Come once more and view the sky,
What a change! what gloomy cover
Half obscures her from our eye.

Alas! 'tis we alone that sever,
From her orb that lustre bright,
She would shine as clear as ever,
Only we eclipse her light.

Sweetest boy, believe the lesson;
Would it were my happy fate,
That my verse might deep impress on
Thy pure mind a truth so great.

All our light from heaven we borrow,
All our peace, and all our joy,
Gloomy care, distress and sorrow,
We may thus for ever fly.

All would shine with cloudless pleasure,
Every object that we viewed,
Could we place our heart's best treasure
In the purest source of good.

'Tis our passions, 'tis our vices,
Interpose 'twixt heaven and man,
And our folly, that despises
Virtue's joy-bestowing plan.
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