Sometime, when all life's lessons have been learned,
And sun and stars forevermore have set,
The things which our weak judgements here have spurned,
The things so'er which we grieved with lashes wet, ...
Split the Lark—and you'll find the Music—
Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled—
Scantilly dealt to the Summer Morning
Saved for your Ear when Lutes be old.