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Rh How poor we are with all our laws Of ever-changing form and dress! The world becomes a weariness, Life’s current choked with straws.

I sometimes think the brain more wise Where madness reason hath out-thrown, And gave the fool a life his own, That had no guilt in lies—

Than we, who claim to Reason’s rule And chain our freedom ruthlessly. Not to what is, but what must be— Forever in a school.

The ox, the ass, ’neath Nature’s dome, Follow His teachings without strife; And yet they reach the heights of life. And bring their harvest home.

I ask, O World, a wider sight For men, that they to see be strong— Your little wrongs that are not wrong, Your little rights that are not right.

There’s not so much sin here below As petty fashions make believe; Yet so the world’s sad eyes deceive— Sin is much greater than they know.