The Poor World Is Almost Six Thousand

More Can I Bear Than You Dare Execute.

And Teach Me How To Name The Bigger Light, And How The Less, That Burn By Day And Night.

A Pox O’ Your Throat, You Bawling, Blasphemous, Incharitable Dog!

Fight To The Last Gasp.

If Thou Couldst, Doctor, Cast The Water Of My Land, Find Her Disease, And Purge It To A Sound And Pristine Health, I Would Applaud Thee To The Very Echo, That Should Applaud You Again.