Look how the world's poor people are amazed at apparitions, signs and prodigies!
I am wrapped in dismal thinking.
No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. But I know none, and therefore am no beast.
O, how full of briers is this working-day world!
The cat will mew, and dog will have his day.
When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.