Come! search within, nor sight nor smell regard;

The true physician walks the foulest ward.

See on the floor, where frousy patches rest!

What nauseous fragments on yon fractured chest!

What downy dust beneath yon window-seat!

And round these posts that serve this bed for feet;

This bed where all those tatter’d garments lie,

Worn by each sex, and now perforce thrown by!

See! as we gaze, an infant lifts its head,

Left by neglect and burrow’d in that bed;