He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never bebeloved by men.
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.
For a tear is an intellectual thing,
And a sigh is the sword of an Angel King,
And the bitter groan of the martyr's woe
Is an arrow from the Almighty's bow.
This cabinet is formed of gold
And pearl and crystal shining bright,
And within it opens into a world
And a little lovely moony night.
Terror in the house does roar,
But Pity stands before the door.
What is Grand is necessarily obscure to Weak men. That which can be made Explicit to the idiot is not worth my care.
Cruelty has a human heart,
And Jealousy a human face;
Terror the human form divine,
And Secrecy the human dress.
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretch'd beneath the tree.
My mother groan'd! my father wept.
Into the dangerous world I leapt:
Helpless, naked, piping loud:
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.
The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,
The humble sheep a threatning horn:
While the Lily white shall in love delight,
Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.
You'll quite remove the ancient curse.
The look of love alarms
Because 'tis filled with fire;
But the look of soft deceit
Shall win the lover's hire.
Then old Nobodaddy aloft
Farted and belched and coughed,
And said, "I love hanging and drawing and quartering
Every bit as well as war and slaughtering."
Love to faults is always blind,
Always is to joys inclined,
Lawless, winged, and unconfined,
And breaks all chains from every mind.
Why art thou silent and invisible,
Father of Jealousy?
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