Lift I my eyes to yonder floating sky,
Where clouds paint pictures with so clear a hue?
A heaven so beautiful it must be true.
For if I but to earth withdraw my eyes,
And fix them on the creature man
To scan his acts, the dear, fond picture dies,
And worse he seems in thought, and air, and plan
Than the hyena, beast that only digs
For food, and not rejoices in the dart,
That stopped the warm blood current of the heart.