WHEN first peeps out from earth the modest vine, Asking but little space to live and grow, How easily some step, without design, May crush the being from a thing so low! But let the hand that doth delight to show Support to feebleness, the tendril twine Around some lattice-work, and 't will bestow Its thanks in fragrance, and with blossoms shine. And thus, when Genius first puts forth its shoot -- So timid that it scarce dare ask to live -- The tender germ, if trodden under foot, Shrinks back again to its undying root; While kindly training bids it upward strive, And to the future flowers immortal give. |