188
Sweet is the lore which nature brings;
Our meddling intellect
Misshapes the beauteous forms of things;
—We murder to dissect.
Our meddling intellect
Misshapes the beauteous forms of things;
—We murder to dissect.
Enough of science and of art;
Close up these barren leaves;
Come forth, and bring with you a heart
That watches and receives.
Close up these barren leaves;
Come forth, and bring with you a heart
That watches and receives.
