No More Learning

I mourn the pride And avarice, that make man wolf to man ; Hear the faint echo of those brazen throats,
By which he speaks the language of the heart, And sigh, but never tremble at the sound,
He travels and expatiates, as the bee
From flower to flower, so he from land to land, The manners, customs, policy of all
Pay contribution to the store he gleans ;
He sucks           in every clime,
And spreads the honey of his deep research
At his return— a rich repast for me.