By
John Donne.
Natures great master-peece, an Elephant,
The onely
harmlesse great thing; the giant
Of beasts; who thought, no more had
gone, to make one wise
But to be just, and thankfull, loth to offend,
(Yet nature hath given him no knees to bend)
Himselfe he up-props,
on himselfe relies,
And foe to none, suspects no enemies,
Still
sleeping stood; vex'd not his fantasie
Blacke dreames; like an unbent
bow, carelessly
His sinewy Proboscis did remisly lie:
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