Prone and desolate
By the shut Gate.
A poet is a perpetual Adam: events pass before him, like the animals in the creation, and he names them.
"The Improvement of the Ground is the most Natural Obtaining of Riches: For it is our Great Mother's Blessing, the Earth: But it is slow."
[Poems on Agriculture]
How could I injure thee,
Thou art All and I am nought,
What harm, what harm could e'er be wrought
On thee by me?
Lo, he that hath helped me to do right (save by mere information upon which I act or not, as I please) he hath not done me a favor: he hath covertly hurt me: he hath insidiously deflowered the virginity of my will; I am thenceforth not a pure Me: I am partly another.