On Reading Some Lines in Praise of Indifference
O dismal vacancy of heart!
Poor recompence! to feel no smart!
The world has trash, with all its treasure,
And give up Pain, you give up Pleasure.
Oh what a wretch, forlorn, is he,
Who boasts Insensibility!
A wretch, indeed!—to envy born?—
No!—to our wonder and our scorn!
Nor let that pity be forgot,—
He is disgrac'd in feeling not!
Poor recompence! to feel no smart!
The world has trash, with all its treasure,
And give up Pain, you give up Pleasure.
Oh what a wretch, forlorn, is he,
Who boasts Insensibility!
A wretch, indeed!—to envy born?—
No!—to our wonder and our scorn!
Nor let that pity be forgot,—
He is disgrac'd in feeling not!
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