Tells a heavenly architect:
Woods, and fields with lowing kine,
Speak a finger all divine.
See the birds, how pair by pair
Swift they cleave the yielding air:
Thunder, light’ning, storm and wind
God doth at his will unbind.
See the billows tumbling o’er,
Chafing with incessant roar;
Hear them, as they sink and swell,