The heart is like the sky, a part of heaven,
but changes night and day too, like the sky;
Now o'er it clouds and thunder must be driven,
And darkness and destruction as on high:
But when it hath been scorch'd, and pierced, and riven,
Its storms expire in water-drops; the eye
pours forth at last the heart's-blood turn'd to tears,
which make the English climate of our years.