Make man into his proper optics look,
And so become the student and the book.
With his conception, his first leaf, begin;
20What is he there but complicated sin?
When riper time, and the approaching birth
Ranks him among the creatures of the earth,
His wailing mother sends him forth to greet
The light, wrapp'd in a bloody winding sheet;
As if he came into the world to crave
No place to dwell in, but bespeak a grave.