Meant to make a heaven on earth,
Hallowing, humanizing love!
With the ties which thence have birth,
These can never be his lot,
Who, like brutes, is bought and sold,
Holding such—as having not
On his own the spider’s hold.
’Tis to feel e’en worse than this,
If aught worse than this can be,
Thou hast shrined, for bale or bliss,