A RAVEN, while with glossy breast Her new-laid eggs she fondly pressed, And, on her wicker-work high mounted, Her chickens prematurely counted, (A fault philosophers might blame, If quite exempted from the same,) Enjoyed at ease the genial day; 'Twas April, as the bumpkins say, The legislature called it May. But suddenly a wind, as high As ever swept a winter sky, Shook the young leaves about her ears, And filled her with a thousand fears, Lest the rude blast should snap the bough, And spread her golden hopes below. But just at eve the blowing weather And all her fears were hushed together; "And now," quoth poor unthinking Ralph, "'Tis over, and the brood is safe;" (For ravens, though, as birds of omen, They teach both conjurers and old women To tell us what is to befall, Can't prophesy themselves at all). The morning came, when neighbour Hodge, Who long had marked her airy lodge, And destined all the treasure there A gift to his expecting fair, Climbed like a squirrel to his dray, And bore the worthless prize away. MORAL. 'Tis Providence alone secures In every change both mine and yours: Safety consists not in escape From dangers of a frightful shape; An earthquake may be bid to spare The man that's strangled by a hair. Fate steals along with silent tread, Found oftenest in what least we dread, Frowns in the storm with angry brow, But in the sunshine strikes the blow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A TRIP TO PARIS AND BELGIUM: 16. ANTWERP TO GHENT by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE FOOL'S PRAYER by EDWARD ROWLAND SILL THE THREE TROOPERS DURING THE PROTECTORATE by GEORGE WALTER THORNBURY TWO SONNETS TO MY WIFE by MAXWELL BODENHEIM |