‘The sun is “spot”-less, and ashamed would hide.’
Dull ign’rance with long words did aye combine!
And thou shalt half believe and half deride
Anno Salutis eighteen seventy-nine.
The burden of lost leisure. Thou shalt grieve
By rain-vexed stream, drenched moor, or seashore dead;
And say at night, ‘Would I had had no leave!’
And say at dawn, ‘Would that my leave were sped!’
The water of affliction and the bread
For food and for attire shall then be thine,