Happy The Man Who Sees

In Indolent Vacuity Of Thought.

Strange As It May Seem, The Most Ludicrous Lines I Ever Wrote Have Been Written In The Saddest Mood.

Ye Fearful Saints Fresh Courage Take, The Clouds You So Much Dread Are Big With Mercy And Shall Break, With Blessings On Your Head

In The Vast, And The Minute, We See The Unambiguous Footsteps Of The God, Who Gives Its Lustre To An Insect's Wing And Wheels His Throne Upon The Rolling Worlds.

Reasoning At Every Step He Treads, Man Yet Mistakes His Way, Whilst Meaner Things, Whom Instinct Leads, Are Rarely Known To Stray.