I, thy foster-child, O Nature
Swear! I tell to thee
Thy pretty mystery sucks my tear
And what happened to be
Neither I love nor hate
But 'twas a history to portray
Again and again and again!
By my desirous flame;
Not claim, nor blame!

I'm yet thy fond-son
'Twas little unawareness
And petty, once, I won
What did me suppress, know?
- - Less smile.