Newton and the Apple;
or, Gravity
or, Gravity
There must have been a Devil in the tree
he sat beneath, that toss'd him Knowledge down
(though not of Good and Evil, certainly).
The day would wane, and he still in his gown
would sit unmoving on his bed, his eyes
fix'd on the empty air, and never eat.
As people say, 'tis folly to be wise.
His Wisdom look'd like runes, imprinted neat
as any madman's scribble, meant to prove
how Up and Down arrange themselves, how Light
is made of colours, how the Planets move
through Heav'n. In imitation of the Bright
and Proud, he wanted to explain it all:
as if Men need instruction how to fall.
