"And as for you, my Lady Squeamish, Who reckon every touch a blemish, If all the plants that can be found Embellishing the scene around, Should droop and wither where they grow, You would not feel at all, not you. The noblest minds their virtue prove By pity, sympathy, and love: These, these are feelings truly fine, And prove their owner half divine." His censure reached them as he dealt it. And each by shrinking show'd he felt it. WILLIAM COWPER The Pineapple and the Bee The Pineapples, in triple row, Were basking hot, and all in blow. A Bee of most deserving taste Perceived the fragrance as he pass'd. On eager wing the spoiler came, And searched for crannies in the frame, Urged his attempt on every side, To every pane his trunk applied; But still in vain, the frame was tight, And only pervious to the light: Thus having wasted half the day, He trimm'd his flight another way. * * * * * Our dear delights are often such, Exposed to view, but not to touch; The sight our foolish heart inflames, We long for pineapples in frames; With hopeless wish one looks and lingers; One breaks the glass, and cuts his fingers; But they whom Truth and Wisdom lead, Can gather honey from a weed. WILLIAM COWPER Amelia and the Spider The muslin torn, from tears of grief In vain Amelia sought relief; In sighs and plaints she passed the day, The tattered frock neglected lay: While busied at the weaving trade, A Spider heard the sighing maid, And kindly stopping in a trice, Thus offered (gratis) her advice: "Turn, little girl, behold in me A stimulus to industry; Compare your woes my dear, with mine, Then tell me who should most repine; This morning, ere you'd left your room, The chambermaid's relentless broom, In one sad moment that destroyed To build which thousands were employed. The shock was great, but as my life I saved in the relentless strife, I knew lamenting was in vain, So patient went to work again; By constant work a day or more My little mansion did restore. And if each tear which you have shed Had been a needleful of thread, If every sigh of sad despair Had been a stitch of proper care, Closed would have been the luckless rent, Nor thus the day have been misspent." ANONYMOUS The Goose and the Swans