A NEEDLE, small as small can be, In bulk and use surpasses me, Nor is my purchase dear; For little, and almost for nought, As many of my kind are bought As days are in the year. Yet though but little use we boast, And are procured at little cost, The labour is not light; Nor few artificers it asks, All skilful in their several tasks, To fashion us aright. One fuses metal o'er the fire, A second draws it into wire, The shears another plies, Who clips in lengths the brazen thread For him who, chafing every shred, Gives all an equal size. A fifth prepares, exact and round, The knob with which it must be crowned; His follower makes it fast: And with his mallet and his file To shape the point, employs awhile The seventh and the last. Now therefore, CEdipus! declare What creature, wonderful and rare, A process that obtains Its purpose with so much ado At last produces!--tell me true, And take me for your pains! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INVOCATION by LOUIS UNTERMEYER LOVE IN THE WINDS by RICHARD HOVEY THE BLACKBIRD by ALFRED TENNYSON THE RWOSE IN THE DARK by WILLIAM BARNES THE FLOWERING TREE by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES ITE DOMUM SATURAE, VENIT HESPERUS by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH |