Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/The Dewdrop and the Stream

The Dewdrop and the Stream.

The brakes with golden flowers were crowned,And melody was heard around,When, near the scene, a dewdrop shedIts lustre on a violet's head,And trembling to the breeze it hung!The streamlet, as it rolled along,The beauty of the morn confessed,And thus the sparkling pearl addressed:—

"Sure, little drop, rejoice we may,For all is beautiful and gay;Creation wears her emerald dress,And smiles in all her loveliness.And with delight and pride I seeThat little flower bedewed by thee;Thy lustre with a gem might vie,While trembling in its purple eye."—

"Ay, you may well rejoice, tis true,"Replied the radiant drop of dew;"You will, no doubt, as on you move,To flocks and herds a blessing prove.But when the sun ascends on high,Its beams will draw me towards the sky;And I must own my little power—I've but refreshed a humble flower."—

"Hold!" cried the stream, "nor thus repine;For well 'tis known a power divine,Subservient to His will supreme,Has made the dewdrop and the stream.Though small thou art (I that allow),No mark of heaven's contempt art thou—Thou hast refreshed a humble flower,And done according to thy power."

All things that are both great and small,One glorious Author formed them all:This thought may all repinings quell—Wat serves His purpose serves Him well.