Bound in a little room, my heart exulting,
Surveys the treasures of unmeasured space;
A thousand pathways in one spot resulting,
Disclose the errors of the human race;
What all men seek within that centre lies,
Whose ripening virtues shun the general view,
Lest all should dub them beautiful and wise,
And all that nature has of good and true:
O well for me that worth all would admire
Most should unconscious leave to my employ;
So may thy budding beauties breathe their fire,
All unattempted by the world’s annoy:
So nature crowns her gifts by liberal growth,
She owes success and sanctifies her troth.