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Poem	"Men know but little more than we, Who count us least of things terrene, How happy days are made to be! "Of such strange tidings what think ye, O birds in brown that peck and preen? Men know but little more than we! "When I was borne from yonder tree In bonds to them, I hoped to glean How happy days are made to be, "And want and wailing turned to glee; Alas, despite their mighty mien Men know but little more than we! "They cannot change the Frost's decree, They cannot keep the skies serene; How happy days are made to be "Eludes great Man's sagacity No less than ours, O tribes in treen! Men know but little more than we How happy days are made to be."
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