God shall be all in all.

Farewell happy fields, Where joy forever dwells: Hail, horrors, hail.

Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony.

Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.

What call thou solitude? Is not the earth with various living creatures, and the air replenished, and all these at thy command to come and play before thee?

By labor and intent study (which I take to be my portion in this life), joined with the strong propensity of nature, I might perhaps leave something so written to after-times, as they should not willingly let it die.

In naked beauty most adorned.