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Poem	The fleet astronomer can bore And thread the spheres with his quick-piercing mind: He views theirs stations, walks from door to door, Surveys, as if he had designed To make a purchase there: he sees their dances, And knoweth long before, Both their full-eyed aspects, and secret glances. The nimble diver with his side Cuts through the working waves, that he may fetch His dearly-earned pearl, which God did hide On purpose from the ventrous wretch; That he might save his life, and also hers, Who with excessive pride Her own destruction and his danger wears. The subtle chymick can devest And strip the creature naked, till he find The callow principles within their nest: There he imparts to them his mind, Admitted to their bed-chamber, before They appear trim and drest To ordinary suitors at the door. What hath not man sought out and found, But his dear God? who yet his glorious law Embosoms in us, mellowing the ground With showers and frosts, with love and awe, So that we need not say, Where's this command? Poor man, thou searchest round To find out death, but missest life at hand.
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