So Perish All Who Do The Like

Lo! The Poor Indian, Whose Untutored Mind Sees God In Clouds, Or Hears Him In The Wind.

The Soul, Uneasy And Confin'd From Home, Rests And Expatiates In A Life To Come.

To Dazzle Let The Vain Design, To Raise The Thought And Touch The Heart, Be Thine!

Whether The Darken'd Room To Muse Invite, Or Whiten'd Wall Provoke The Skew'r To Write; In Durance, Exile, Bedlam, Or The Mint, Like Lee Or Budgel I Will Rhyme And Print.

There Is A Majesty In Simplicity.