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Rh 

brooklet ill befits The ship in gallant trim, When bound across the ocean waves, With precious freight to swim.

So, too, the heart confined to earth A stranded object lies, Meant by its Maker to maintain Communion with the skies.

Oh, my poor bark, so long aground, Expand thy drooping sail, Forsake this narrow inland coast, And catch the open gale.

It ill becomes thine origin, Thy destiny sublime, To stay immers'd in vanities Upon the shore of time.

Let not a shallow earthly pool That noble keel detain; 'Tis bound with precious freight to cross Th' illimitable main.

 

first I went, a little miss, To school in Lincolnshire, Oh, weary were the dull long days For many a tedious year, 