Why is it that we can never hear mention of them without an accompanying feeling, as though a palpable obscure had dimmed the face of things, and that our ancestors wandered to and fro groping!

And drawing near the sunshine of content, Perish obscure to make your glories grow.

When Nature from the void obscure Her varied world to life awakes, All things find use and so endure: Thus she a poison never makes Without its corresponding cure: Each thing of Nature's careful setting, Each plant that grows in field or grove Hath got its opposite flower or weed; The cure is with the pain decreed; Thus too is found for feverish love 'The bless`ed rapture of forgetting.'