The man is praying who doth press with might
Out of his darkness into God's own light.
White heat the iron in the furnace won,
Withdrawn from thence 'twas cold and hard anon.
Flowers, from their stalk divided, presently
Droop, fall, and wither in the gazer's eye.
The greenest leaf, divided from its stem,
To speedy withering doth itself condemn.
The largest river, from its fountain-head
Cut off, leaves soon a parched and dusty bed.