The Poetry of Real Life | ||
181
HUMAN DEPRAVITY.
O God, in spite of all my charity,My hope and faith, I'm well nigh sick at heart
Sometimes, when I behold the worser part
Of human Nature, scanned too narrowly:
Viewed with that microscopic scrutiny,
Which, through all cloaks of nature or of art,
Looks straight to the sad truth, that, like a dart,
Goes through the heart of my Humanity.
The want of honor, the ingratitude,
The vice, the brutish ignorance, of some,
The imperfections of both bad and good,
Dishearten, and, at times, my Muse strike dumb:
Make me ashamed of Man's similitude,
And wish, sometimes, I could aught else become.
The Poetry of Real Life | ||