Sometimes it seems that animals
By instinct taught to live and die
And even dumb, insensate things
Like trees are happier than I.
Time does not tyrannise them; space
Confines them not. They do not dread
The future nor regret the past;
No mourners leave, when they are dead.
But Nature compensation gives
However blessed may be their lot
Yet my small joys enjoyment bring
(Whereas) their pleasures please them not.