Exaggeration

WE overstate the ills of life, and

Imagination (given us to bring

The choirs of singing angels

By God's clear glory) down our earth to

The dismal snows instead, flake following flake,

To cover all the corn; we walk

The shadow of hills across a level thrown,

And pant like climbers: near the alder

We sigh so loud, the nightingale

Refuses to sing loud, as else she would.

O brothers, let us leave the shame and

Of taking vainly, in a plaintive mood,

The holy name of

EF !—holy

That by the grief of

NE came all our good.