Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose.
A boundless continent, Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of night Starless expos'd.
So shall the world go on, To good malignant, to bad men benign, Under her own weight groaning.
Herbs, and other country messes, Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses.
Indu'd With sanctity of reason.
Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth.