50. A Narrow Brooklet.
A narrow brooklet ill befits
The ship in gallant trim,
When bound across the ocean waves,
With precious freight to swim.
So, too, the heart confined to earth
A stranded object lies,
Meant by its Maker to maintain
Communion with the skies.
Oh, my poor bark, so long aground,
Expand thy drooping sail,
Forsake this narrow inland coast,
And catch the open gale.
It ill becomes thine origin,
Thy destiny sublime,
To stay immers'd in vanities
Upon the shore of time.
Let not a shallow earthly pool
That noble keel detain;
'Tis bound with precious freight to cross
Th' illimitable main.
51. The Little Butterfly-Catcher.
When first I went, a little miss,
To school in Lincolnshire,
Oh, weary were the dull long days
