Pity would be no
If we did not make somebody Poor;
And Mercy no more could
If all were as happy as we.
And mutual fear brings peace,
Till the selfish loves increase:
Then Cruelty knits a snare,
And spreads his baits with care.
He sits down with holy fears,
And waters the grounds with tears;
Then Humility takes its
Underneath his foot.
Soon spreads the dismal
Of Mystery over his head;
And the Caterpillar and
Feed on the Mystery.
And it bears the fruit of Deceit,
Ruddy and sweet to eat;
And the Raven his nest has
In its thickest shade.
The Gods of the earth and
Sought thro' Nature to find this Tree;
But their search was all in vain:
There grows one in the Human Brain.
