Answers

2014-07-03T16:58:54+05:30
Lo! where the Moon along the sky
Sails with her happy destiny;
Oft is she hid from mortal eye
Or dimly seen, 
But when the clouds asunder fly
How bright her mien!

Far different we--a froward race,
Thousands though rich in fortune's grace
With cherished sullness of pace
Thei way pursue,
Ingrates who wear a smileless face 
The whole year through.

If kindred humours e'er would make
My spirit droop for drooping's sake,
From Fancy following in thy wake,
Bright ship of heaven!
A counter impulse let me take
And be forgiven.

Pls mark as best...
0