The Silk-Worm
There
is
no
form
upon
our
earth
That
bears
the
mighty
Maker's
seal,
But
has
some
charm:-to
draw
this
forth,
We
must
have
hearts
to
feel.
I
saw
a
fair
young
girl-her
face
Was
sweet
as
dream
of
cherished
friend-
Just
at
the
age
when
childhood's
grace
And
maiden
softness
blend.
A
silk-worm
in
her
hand
she
laid,
Nor
fear,
nor
yet
disgust
was
stirred;
But
gaily
with
her
charge
she
played,
As
'twere
a
nestling
bird.
She
raised
it
to
her
dimpled
cheek,
And
let
it
rest
and
revel
there,-
O,
why
for
outward
beauty
seek-
Love
makes
its
favourites
fair!
That
worm-I
should
have
shrunk,
in
truth,
To
feel
the
reptile
o'er
me
move;
But,
loved
by
innocence
and
youth,
I
deemed
it
worthy
love.
Would
we,
I
thought,
the
soul
imbue,
In
early
life,
with
sympathies
For
every
harmless
thing,
and
view
Such
creatures
formed
to
please:
And
when
with
usefulness
combined,
Give
them
our
love
and
gentle
care-
O,
we
might
have
a
world
as
kind
As
God
has
made
it
fair!
There
is
no
form
upon
our
earth,
Bearing
the
mighty
Maker's
seal,
But
has
some
charm:-to
call
this
forth
We
need
but
hearts
to
feel.
