A AN ENIGMA. (PAGE 237.) NEEDLE, small as small can be, For little, and almost for nought, As many of my kind are bought As days are in the year. Yet though but little use we boast, Nor few artificers it asks, All skilful in their several tasks, One fuses metal o'er the fire, A second draws it into wire, The sheers another plies; Who clips in length the brazen thread Gives all an equal size. AN ENIGMA. A fifth prepares, exact and round, The knob with which it must be crown'd; And with his mallet and his file To shape the point, employs awhile Now therefore, dipus! declare Its purpose with so much ado At last produces !-tell me true, And take me for your pains! 301 NO SORROW PECULIAR TO THE TH SUFFERER. (PAGE 239.) HE lover, in melodious verses, Nor thou alone hast lost thy wits. T THE SNAIL. (PAGE 245.) O grass, or leaf, or fruit, or wall, The snail sticks close, nor fears to fall, As if he grew there, house and all Together. Within that house secure he hides, Of weather. Give but his horns the slightest touch, Displeasure. Where'er he dwells, he dwells alone, Well satisfied to be his own Whole treasure. |