Once on a time, a paper kite
Was mounted to a wondrous height;
Where, giddy with its elevation,
It thus express'd self-admiration:
"See how yon crowds of gazing people
Admire my flight above the steeple;
How would they wonder, if they knew
All that a kite, like me, could do?
Were I but free, I'd take a flight,
And pierce the clouds beyond their sight.
But, ah! like a poor prisoner bound,
My string confines me near the ground.
I'd brave the eagle's towering wing,
Might I but fly without a string."
It tugg'd and pull'd, while thus it spoke,
To break the string--at last it broke!
Deprived at once of all its stay,
In vain it tried to soar away:
Unable its own weight to bear,
It flutter'd downward through the air;
Unable its own course to guide,
The winds soon plunged it in the tide.
Oh! foolish kite, thou hadst no wing,
How could'st thou fly without a string?
My heart replied, "Oh, Lord, I see
How much the kite resembles me!
Forgetful that by thee I stand,
Impatient of thy ruling hand;
How oft I've wish'd to break the lines
Thy wisdom for my lot assigns!
How oft indulged a vain desire
For something more or something higher!
And but for grace and love divine,
A fall thus dreadful had been mine."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]