Chapter 27

ENOUGH.

God gave a loaf to every bird, But just a crumb to me; I dare not eat it, though I starve, — My poignant luxury To own it, touch it, prove the feat That made the pellet mine, — Too happy in my sparrow chance For ampler coveting.

It might be famine all around, I could not miss an ear, Such plenty smiles upon my board, My garner shows so fair. I wonder how the rich may feel, — An Indiaman — an Earl? I deem that I with but a crumb Am sovereign of them all.

XXVIII.

Experiment to me Is every one I meet. If it contain a kernel? The figure of a nut

Presents upon a tree, Equally plausibly; But meat within is requisite, To squirrels and to me.

XXIX.

MY COUNTRY'S WARDROBE.

My country need not change her gown, Her triple suit as sweet As when 't was cut at Lexington, And first pronounced "a fit."

Great Britain disapproves "the stars;" Disparagement discreet, — There 's something in their attitude That taunts her bayonet.

XXX.

Faith is a fine invention For gentlemen who see; But microscopes are prudent In an emergency!

XXXI.

Except the heaven had come so near, So seemed to choose my door, The distance would not haunt me so; I had not hoped before.

But just to hear the grace depart I never thought to see, Afflicts me with a double loss; 'T is lost, and lost to me.

XXXII.

Portraits are to daily faces As an evening west To a fine, pedantic sunshine In a satin vest.

XXXIII.

THE DUEL.

I took my power in my hand. And went against the world; 'T was not so much as David had, But I was twice as bold.

I aimed my pebble, but myself Was all the one that fell. Was it Goliath was too large, Or only I too small?

XXXIV.

A shady friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind.

The vane a little to the east Scares muslin souls away; If broadcloth breasts are firmer Than those of organdy,

Who is to blame? The weaver? Ah! the bewildering thread! The tapestries of paradise So notelessly are made!