THE skies were jaded, while the famous sun br Slack of his office to confute the fogs br Lay sick abed; but I, inured to duty, br Sat for my food. Three hours each day we souls, br Who might be angels but are fastened down br With bodies, most infuriating freight, br Sit fattening these frames and skeletons br With filthy food, which they must cast away br Before they feed again.