![]() | Poems and Lancashire Songs | ![]() |
35
THE WORLD.
I
This foolish world doth winkIts cunning lid;
And, when it thinks, it thinks
Its thoughts are hid.
II
Its piety's a screenWhere vice doth hide;
Its purity's unclean;
Its meekness, pride.
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III
Its charity's a baitTo catch a name;
Its kindness covers hate;
Its praise is blame.
IV
Its wisdom soweth seedsWhich follies prove;
And its repentance needs
Repenting of.
V
Its learning's empty talk;Its heart is cold;
Its church is an exchange;
Its god is gold.
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VI
Its pleasures all are blind,And lead to pain;
Its treasures are a kind
Of losing gain.
VII
Lust moves it more than love,Fear more than shame;
Its best ambitions have
A grovelling aim.
VIII
Its laws are a disgrace;Its lords are slaves;
Its honours are misplaced,
E'en on our graves.
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IX
Some sorrow doth attendIts happiest dreams;
And rottenness doth end
Its rotten schemes.
X
Oh, cure this moral madness—This soul-disease;
Shew us that Vice brings sadness,
And Virtue, ease.
XI
And teach us in the hourOf Sin's dismay,
That Truth's the only flower
Without decay.
![]() | Poems and Lancashire Songs | ![]() |