Black are the first tales
Sake of the ideal scorn
The imaginary author’s son
At the Slate-quarries misshapen
Disagreeable the objects
Herds of the least world
The bottom farm sequestered small
Of the few cottage walls
The corner spectator architect
Wonder of the proprieter ground
The late property harmless
To the personal door following
The ingenious traditions of good
Stock the countryman’s best
Panel and the end of sense
That insults greatest the most
Caterpillars in the cabbages
The worms of most beauties
The soft green bubblings
& the complexities of the celebrated church
Where the concourse ideas are common
As the churchyard eyes
Of the vulgar poor children
In the neighborhood of ideal fear
The same sale of produce
& the simple country situation
Of the next mill and the alms-bag
Left deformed by the beginning present
Of curiosity and the dead same
Happiness the family venerable
In the philosopher’s mansion-house
Will veil the occasional taste
To elect the best volume
A sense of the utter story
& the catastrophe of the work idea
Of the solitary reader
Disproportioned and distorted
The Black Dwarf
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