Flies, oft removed, return. Do they want fear,
Or shame, or memory? Flies are everywhere.
Pride cannot see itself by mid-day light;
The peacock’s tail is farthest from his sight.
The swallow’s a quick arrow, that may show 25
With what an instant swiftness life doth flow.
The nightingale’s a quire, no single note;
O various power of God in one small throat!
The silkworm’s its own wonder; without loom
It does provide itself a silken room. 30