Who dreams a sweeter life than this,
  To stand and stare, when at this fence,
Back into those dumb creatures' eyes,
  And think we have their innocence -
Our looks as open as the skies.

Lambs with their legs and noses black,
  Whose woolly necks, so soft and white,
Can take away the children's breath;
  Who'd strangle them in their delight -
And calves they'd worry half to death.

This world's too full of those dull men
  Who ne'er advance from that first state
Which opens mouth before the eye;
  Who, when they think of dumb things, rate
Them by the body's gluttony.