129
"Those praises are not mine;
"Tis instinct's true unerring pow'r,
"That guides the insect to the flow'r,
"Bids him to shun art's gaudy bow'r,
"And fly to Nature's shrine.
"And man, of wit, of reason proud,
"Might learn from yonder buzzing crowd,
"To fly the false and painted train;
"In Nature's form, in Nature's mind,
"His best, his only blessing find,
"Nor make that blessing vain."
"Tis instinct's true unerring pow'r,
"That guides the insect to the flow'r,
"Bids him to shun art's gaudy bow'r,
"And fly to Nature's shrine.
"And man, of wit, of reason proud,
"Might learn from yonder buzzing crowd,
"To fly the false and painted train;
"In Nature's form, in Nature's mind,
"His best, his only blessing find,
"Nor make that blessing vain."
