ODK TO JJO/'E 367
��Or, armed with microscope, to note Those tiny living swarms that float Within the compass of a tear, Or count the nations that appear Beneath the surface of that main Whose tides flow in a drop of rain, Living whole ages in an hour, Hung from the petals of a flower, Where the light wings of summer-shower Have cast their globe to shine, and die When the first sunbeam bursts the sky.
��Or, with that greater glass when I survey
Those glittering orbs that swim through night and day
In endless space, to which our distant sphere
Seems scarcely larger than a trickling tear,
Alas, the world seems grown so vast,
And man so mean, that now at last
Thou seemest fled to some far shore —
I must gaze after thee no more.
Yet midst my night I feel thy wavy wing,
And seem to hear thy sweet voice whispering :
" Even in that little drop am I,
Cheering the tiniest atomy."
Yes, in all life I feel thou a^-t,
Beating throughout all Nature's heart !
In sun, and moon, and twinkling star.
And every planet, near or far.
Even in this drop of vinegar
That teems with life, I scarce can doubt
The pygmies there have found thee out.
Boasting like men, with vain and solemn airs.
That the whole boundless universe is theirs —
Each deeming his own world God's only sphere.
Each with some faith, perhaps, which he holds dear,
�� �
