Mankind

Men are but children of a larger growth;

Our appetites are apt to change as theirs,

And full as craving too, and full as vain;

And yet the soul, shut up in her dark room,

Viewing so clear abroad, at home sees nothing;

But, like a mole in earth, busy and blind,

Works all her folly up, and casts it outward

To the world's open view.