Hide me from day's garish eye / While the bee with honied thigh / That at her flowery work doth sing.
From the cheerful ways of men / Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair / Presented with a universal blank / Of nature's works to me expunged and razed, / And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.
Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed.
The work under our labour grows, Luxurious by restraint.
Let us go forth and resolutely dare with sweat of brow to toil our little day.