1570
This thought is clothed in its address,
That minds the light with darted hand,
And breathes the night air too:
And too this dress is thought,
Though breathless and unlimbed.
What is the mind in its own place,
That makes without within?
What calamity of memory is its obverse
In meet wonder?
To make a heaven of a hell
Small business
Wants this mirror that sees itself.