For ever and anon comes Indigestion

(Not the most "dainty Ariel"),[563] and perplexes

Our soarings with another sort of question:

And that which after all my spirit vexes,

Is, that I find no spot where Man can rest eye on,

Without confusion of the sorts and sexes,

Of Beings, Stars, and this unriddled wonder,

The World, which at the worst's a glorious blunder—