Creator & destroyer

Man is all symmetry
Full of proportions, one limb to another,
And all to all the world besides
Each part may call the farthest, brother
For head with foot hath private amity

And both with moons and tides Nothing hath got so far
But man hath caught and kept it as his prey

His eyes dismount the highest star: He is little all the sphere.
Herbs gladly cure our flesh, because that they find their acquaintance there

For us, the winds do blow, the earth doth rest
Heaven move and fountains flow. Nothing we see, but means are good

As our delight, or as our treasure
The whole is either our cupboard of food,
Or cabinet of pleasure, The stars have us to bed

Night draws the curtain, which the sun withdraws
Music & light, attend our head

All things unto our flesh, are kind
In their descent, and being: to our mind
In their ascent and cause

More servants wait on man
Than he'll take notice of. In every path,
He treads down that which doth befriend him

When sickness makes him pale and wan...
Oh mighty love! Man is one world, and hath
Another to attend him