"Love seeketh not itself to please,Nor for itself hath any care,But for another gives its ease,And builds a heaven in hell's despair."So sung a little Clod of Clay,Trodden with the cattle's feet,But a Pebble of the brookWarbled out these metres meet:"Love seeketh only Self to please,To bind another to its delight,Joys in another's loss of ease,And builds a hell in heaven's despite."