A very little thing am I,
Not found in ocean, earth, or sky;
Who'll find me out? who'll guess? who'll try?
Me do the vivid lightnings bring,
And without me the fierce Fire King
Is nothing but a shapeless thing.
Yet in the frigid arctic clime
You'll find me in the ice and rime,
And in the iceberg's height sublime.
You hear me in the winds that wail
When driving wintry ice and hail
To shiver rigging, ship, and sail.
You'll see me in the sunshine bright
That glitters in the lily white,
And in the flick'ring faint moonlight.
You'll spy me in your birthday gift,
And in the rippling river swift
That issues from the hill-side rift.
Within the rain that feeds the ground,
And in the ship that's homeward bound,
And in deep tin mines am I found.
Seek me in china, not in delf;
And when you've guessed, quick-witted elf,
You'll find I'm not unlike yourself.
[Illustration: FUN ON THE ICE.--"SHINNY ON YOUR OWN SIDE."]