How gayly is at first begun <br /> Our Life's uncertain Race! <br />Whilst yet that sprightly Morning Sun, <br />With which we just set out to run <br /> Enlightens all the Place. <br /> <br />How smiling the World's Prospect lies <br /> How tempting to go through ! <br />Not Canaan to the Prophet's Eyes, <br />From Pisgah with a sweet Surprize, <br /> Did more inviting shew. <br /> <br />How promising's the Book of Fate, <br /> Till thoroughly understood! <br />Whilst partial Hopes such Lots create, <br />As may the youthful Fancy treat <br /> With all that's Great and Good. <br /> <br />How soft the first Ideas prove, <br /> Which wander through our Minds! <br />How full the Joys, how free the Love, <br />Which do's that early Season move; <br /> As Flow'rs the Western Winds! <br /> <br />Our Sighs are then but Vernal Air; <br /> But April–drops our Tears, <br />Which swiftly passing, all grows Fair, <br />Whilst Beauty compensates our Care, <br /> And Youth each Vapour clears. <br /> <br />But oh! too soon, alas, we climb; <br /> Scarce feeling we ascend <br />The gently rising Hill of Time, <br />From whence with Grief we see that Prime, <br /> And all its Sweetness end. <br /> <br />The Die now cast, our Station known, <br /> Fond Expectation past; <br />The Thorns, which former Days had sown, <br />To Crops of late Repentance grown, <br /> Thro' which we toil at last. <br /> <br />Whilst ev'ry Care's a driving Harm, <br /> That helps to bear us down; <br />Which faded Smiles no more can charm, <br />But ev'ry Tear's a Winter-Storm, <br /> And ev'ry Look's a Frown. <br /> <br />Till with succeeding Ills opprest, <br /> For Joys we hop'd to find; <br />By Age too, rumpl'd and undrest, <br />We gladly sinking down to rest, <br /> Leave following Crouds behind.<br /><br />Anne Kingsmill Finch<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/life-s-progress/
