If ought do touch the utmost thread of it;
She feels it, instantly, on every side!
By touch; the first pure qualities we learn,
Which quicken all things, Hot, Cold, Moist, and Dry!
By touch; Hard, Soft, Rough, Smooth, we do discern!
By touch; sweet Pleasure, and sharp Pain we try!
These are the outward instruments of Sense!
These are the Guards, which every thing must pass;
Ere it approach the Mind's intelligence!
Or touch the Phantasy "Wits Looking Glass!"