Man
Weighing
the
steadfastness
and
state
Of
some
mean
things
which
here
below
reside,
Where
birds
like
watchful
clocks
the
noiseless
date
And
intercourse
of
times
divide;
Where
bees
at
night
get
home
and
hive,
and
flowers
Early,
as
well
as
late,
Rise
with
the
sun,
and
set
in
the
same
bowers;
I
would,
said
I,
my
God
would
give
The
staidness
of
these
things
to
man!
for
these
To
His
divine
appointments
ever
cleave,
And
no
new
business
breaks
their
peace;
The
birds
nor
sow
nor
reap,
yet
sup
and
dine;
The
flowers
without
clothes
live,
Yet
Solomon
was
never
dressed
so
fine.
Man
hath
still
either
toys
or
care;
He
hath
no
root,
nor
to
one
place
is
tied,
But
ever
restless
and
irregular
About
this
earth
doth
run
and
ride;
He
knows
he
hath
a
home,
but
scarce
knows
where;
He
says
it
is
so
far
That
he
hath
quite
forgot
how
to
go
there.
He
knocks
at
all
doors,
strays
and
roams,
Nay,
hath
not
so
much
wit
as
some
stones
have,
Which
in
the
darkest
nights
point
to
their
homes
By
some
hid
sense
their
Maker
gave;
Man
is
the
shuttle,
to
whose
winding
quest
And
passage
through
these
looms
God
ordered
motion,
but
ordained
no
rest.
