Try not, test not, feel not, see not:
’Tis walk and dance, sit down and rise
By leading, opening ne’er your eyes;
Stunt sturdy limbs that Nature gave,
And be drawn in a Bath chair along to the grave.
’Tis the stern and prompt suppressing
As an obvious deadly sin,
All the questing and the guessing
Of the soul’s own soul within:
’Tis the coward acquiescence