William Broome

“A mimic world in ev'ry waving stem.”

“Heavn' new-built walls stood firm, and heav'n new-built, Appeared beyond the ruins of the first.”

“And what's a life? a weary pilgrimage, Whose glory in one day doth fill the stage With childhood, manhood, and decrepit age.”

“Who taught the rapid winds to fly so fast, Or shakes the centre with a northern blast?”

“Who hangs the solid earth in empty space, And lights the sun to run his annual race?”