Sing, riding 's a joy! For me I ride.
When a man's busy, why leisure Strikes him as wonderful pleasure: 'Faith, and at leisure once is he? Straightway he wants to be busy.
Earth being so good, would heaven seem best?
Make no more giants, God!But elevate the race at once!
Men are not angels, neither are they brutes.
Inscribe all human effort with one word, artistry's haunting curse, the Incomplete!