So that all plants may vegetate, from moss to fir.
One, from the wombs of mothers to earth’s surface prone,
That male and female may increase, not lie like stone.
The third hence wends its way to sepulchre’s dread bourn,
There to receive, at length, reward; and joy, or mourn.65
Leave we this theme;—’tis endless,—never would have done.
Let’s see, now, how the friends enjoyed themselves alone.
Our host invites his guest to enter, free from scorn:
“Thou’rt welcome, self of mine! We’re not like rose and thorn.
Our thread is single,—free from knots and tangle; done,