How could I tell
That ere the worm within its shell
Its gauzy, splendid wings had spread,
My little Maedchen would be dead?
To-day the butterfly has flown,--
She was not here to see it fly,--
And sorrowing I wonder why
The empty shell is mine alone.
Perhaps the secret lies in this:
I too had found a chrysalis,
And Death that robbed me of delight
Was but the radiant creature's flight!
MARY EMILY BRADLEY.
FOR A' THAT.
Robert Burns, the plowman and poet, "dinnered wi' a lord." The story
goes that he was put at the second table. That lord is dead, but Robert
Burns still lives. He is immortal. It is "the survival of the fittest"
"For a' That and a' That" is a poem that wipes out the superficial
value put on money and other externalities. This poem is more valuable
in education than good penmanship or good spelling. (1759-96.)
Is there, for honest poverty,
That hangs his head, and a' that?
The coward slave, we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that;
For a' that, and a' that,
Our toils obscure, and a' that;
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The man's the gowd for a' that!
What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin-gray,[1] and a' that;
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,
A man's a man for a' that!
For a' that, and a' that,
Their tinsel show, and a' that;
The honest man, though e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that!
Ye see yon birkie[2] ca'd a lord,
Wha struts, and stares, and a' that;
Though hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof[3] for a' that;
For a' that, and a' that,
His riband, star, and a' that,
The man of independent mind,
He looks and laughs at a' that.
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