The poem
----- Joy from that in type we borrow, Which in life gives only sorrow.
JOY.
A DRAGON-FLY with beauteous wing Is hov'ring o'er a silv'ry spring; I watch its motions with delight,-- Now dark its colours seem, now bright; Chameleon-like appear, now blue, Now red, and now of greenish hue. Would it would come still nearer me, That I its tints might better see
It hovers, flutters, resting ne'er!
But hush! it settles on the mead. I have it safe now, I declare!
And when its form I closely view,
'Tis of a sad and dingy blue-- Such, Joy-Dissector, is thy case indeed
1767-9.