LITTLE thing! I would sing, Lofty song, Measure long; But I fear, That thine ear Such a poem could not bear. Therefore I Mean to try Humbler lays Worthy praise, If my strains, Work'd thee pains, 'Tis not mine, To divine, Whether cost, Labour lost, May on Lilliput be toss'd. Horse and foot Would you put, In the way, Who could say, I had blame, If they came Near my stride And beside My huge foot gigantic dy'd? But, while here I appear Mountain-size, To little eyes; All that strain, Seek in vain, Whilst I climb, Heights sublime, To keep pace, And to trace My footsteps, as I move with martial grace. Though; 'tis true, Praise is due, To your lay, Yet I pray, You'll attend, To a friend. On my hand, Should you stand; If those that soar, Fall the low'r, All Lilliput would yours deplore. Humbly then, With little men, Take your stand, On firm land, Lest your place, Bring disgrace: High in air, Great the care, To be free From jeopardy, Careless found, You might bound, Little poet! to the ground. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OH, SWEET CONTENT by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE STIRRUP-CUP by SIDNEY LANIER POOR [OR, COCK] ROBIN by MOTHER GOOSE THE FRONTIER GUARD by ANTON ALEXANDER VON AUERSPERG A FRAGMENT OF AN EPIC POEM, OCCASIONED BY THE LOSS OF A GAME by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD VALUATION by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON A NEW HAMPSHIRE BOY by MORRIS GILBERT BISHOP |