XIX. Of the Mole in the Ground.
THe Mole's a Creature very smooth and slick,
She digs i'th'dirt, but 'twill not on her stick.
So's he who counts this world his greatest gains,
Yet nothing gets but's labour for his pains.
Earth's the Mole's Element, she can't abide
To be above ground, dirt heaps are her pride;
And he is like her, who the Wordling plays,
He imitates her in her works, and ways.
Poor silly Mole, that thou shouldst love to be,
Where thou, nor Sun, nor Moon, nor Stars can see.
But oh! How silly's he, who doth not care,
So he gets Earth, to have of Heaven a share!