English poem
Ix
by R. D. Blackmore (1825–1900)
"God, who hast said it is not good For man, thy son, to live alone; Is everlasting solitude, When once united bliss was known, A livelier food?
"Can'st thou suppose it right or just, When thine own creature so misled us, In virtue of our simple trust, To torture us like this, and tread us Back into dust?
"Oh, fool I am. Oh, rebel worm! If, when immortal, I was slain, For daring to impugn his reign, How shall I, thus infirm?